


Crawling in the Dirt

by sourwulfur



Series: Better [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cutting, Don't read, Hurt!Stiles, M/M, Pre-Slash, Self Harm, Stiles x Isaac friendship, Triggers, and hugs, if any of those upset you, isaac is a good friend, lots of hugs, self mutilation, seriously, stiles needs help, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 21:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourwulfur/pseuds/sourwulfur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Isaac, the perceptive person that he was, was the first person to notice.</i> Stiles has a problem, one he has struggled with off and on for several years. He does not think that he has a problem, but Isaac is there to help him, whether he wants it or not. Sometimes, it's not falling in love that helps you through dark times, it's a friend who is at your side through it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNING:** Once again, if you did not read the tags, this story has a major **_TRIGGER WARNING_**. I want everyone to go into this prepared. There is no graphic descriptions of the self-harm, but the story deals with it heavily. It is about the recovery more than the action. Still, be warned.
> 
> I was not going to do a story like this, but one of my dear friends requested it. So, here it is _**Claire**_ , your angst filled, hurt!stiles, Stisaac friendship fic.

He could not say when it started, or what triggered it. To be honest, he was not even fully aware of his actions for a long while. All he knew was the great sense of relief that it brought him. Nobody ever suspected; thanks to the media, everyone believed it was only something teenage white girls did, which he obviously was not. Plus, Stiles was very good at ignoring a problem until it went away. He had only realized that things were getting bad when he had to start actively hiding it. Still, he did not stop. Short sleeves were only ever worn with long sleeves under it or over it, or with a hoodie that he never took off. He had to be careful not to wear anything with sleeves that were too loose because they would fall too far up his arm, or too tight because they would rub the wrong way.

 

Stiles took very good care of the neat, small but deep parallel lines that ran across his left forearm. Eventually, he stopped on his arm when there was little room left, and started on the hidden skin of his right hip. He had to worry less about it being seen; and, the way his jeans pressed against the open cuts was a constant reminder. He always made sure to clean them well, to the point that he probably smelled mostly of antiseptic, his medication, and whatever body spray he was using of the moment to the werewolves in his life.

 

Isaac, the perceptive person that he was, was the first person to notice. Stiles had just resumed cutting on his arm after the first round had completely healed and scarred over. Stiles had finished his routine in the bathroom before returning to his bedroom to work on homework. He had gotten half-way through his math worksheet when Isaac came crawling through his bedroom window. “Dude,” Stiles said, mostly breath, as he shook his head. “Does turning into a werewolf make people forget how to use a front door?” Isaac said nothing, he just stood there staring in a way that made Stiles feel very vulnerable, and he did not like it. “What?”

 

Isaac wet his lips, as if he was going to speak, but the curly-haired beta simply walked over to Stiles and grabbed his left wrist. “Dude, what are you doing?” asked Stiles, swallowing nervously as Isaac turned the arm over, and Stiles' eyes widened when he realized what Isaac was doing. “Stop. Don't.”

 

His pleas went unheeded as Isaac pushed up the sleeve of Stiles' red hoodie past his elbow, despite Stiles' struggling, to expose a vast number of old scars and new cuts. Isaac crouched down slowly as Stiles stilled, trying to catch Stiles' gaze while the human teen tried to look anywhere but at him. “How long?” questioned Isaac in a tone that was firm, yet gentle all at the same time.

 

Stiles swallowed thickly and shook his head, wincing as Isaac’s thumb brushed against one of the pale scars he knew to be on his arm. It did not hurt at all; he just did not like the idea of someone _touching_ his scars. “I don't know,” he replied, voice smaller and more broken than Isaac had ever heard.

 

“What do you use? Razor blade?” Stiles clenched his jaw shut at that question, refusing to answer or even look at Isaac until the other teen sat back, lifting up his shirt on the left side to expose what looked like a bunch of burn scars that _had_ to have been made before Isaac had turned. They were more faded than they should have been, though his healing powers did not rid him of them completely. “Lighter from my dad's truck,” Isaac told him before dropping the shirt back into place.

 

It did not really hit Stiles the _weight_ of what he was doing until that moment, when he realized one of the people he had grown to care about had felt just as badly as he did. The expression of worry on Isaac’s face that the teen tried and failed to mask only made Stiles feel worse. “I'm sorry,” was all he said.

 

“Me telling you this is _not_ permission to continue hurting yourself, Stiles,” Isaac stated, shaking his head a little. “I know you probably feel alone; I did. You're not, though, you're really, _really_ not.”

 

“I don't think I can stop,” Stiles said quietly, low enough that even Isaac almost missed it as Stiles wrung his hands in his lap.

 

Isaac sighed softly as he shook his head a little once again, and said, “You _can_. It won't be easy. I’ll help you.”

 

“Does anyone else know?” asked Stiles, ignoring Isaac’s comment. It sounded nice, but much too simple.

 

“No.” Isaac shook his head once again, tipping it to the side very slightly as he studied Stiles. “They don't know the signs like I do. Derek knows you're not as happy as you pretend to be, though.”

 

Stiles nodded and swallowed thickly, pulling his hoodie sleeve back down in place, feeling much too exposed with it otherwise. “Please, don't tell them. They don't need more reason to think I’m pathetic.”

 

Isaac growled low in his throat at that, eyes flashing gold for a moment. “You're _not_ pathetic, Stiles,” he countered, clenching his jaw for a moment before letting out a heavy breath, forcing himself to relax again. It was not a conversation for growling and threats; he knew that would get him nowhere. “I won't say anything, as long as you stop.”

 

“I can't!” Stiles found that he felt panicky even at the _thought_ of stopping what had become his only way of coping with everything, even before the werewolves descended on his life.

 

“You _can_ , and you will.” Isaac stood up then, and he grabbed Stiles phone to program his own number into it. “ _Any_ time, day or night, that you feel the urge to... call or text me. I’ll be there.”

 

“You make it seem so easy.” Stiles spoke softly as he toyed with one of his pens from off his desk, clicking the end randomly.

 

“Afterward, it might seem that way,” Isaac answered with a shrug. “I'm not expecting it to be easy, Stiles. Mistakes happen, but it's going to get better, easier until you don't need it anymore.”

 

Stiles absentmindedly wet his lips and nodded a little, without looking up at Isaac. “I'll... try.”

 

He honestly had no intentions of actually stopping, but if it got Isaac off of his back for him to _try_ , and it kept the other teen from telling everyone else, Stiles would pretend. “What do you use, Stiles, and where is it?” Isaac asked him for a second time.

 

“Does it matter?” replied Stiles, running his fingers through his hair, practically making the strands stand on end.

 

“Yes.” Isaac nodded as he moved over to one of the desk drawers and started to look through it. “The first step is throwing it away.”

 

Stiles' eyes widened for a moment at Isaac’s words, already starting to panic at that idea. “Wh-what? No!” he replied, absently letting his eyes dart to his bedside table, which held his first aid kit that had _everything_ he used and needed in one of the drawers. Stiles was just glad that Isaac was too busy searching to notice.

 

“Yes, Stiles,” stated Isaac in his best no-nonsense voice that seemed so out of character for him. “I'm not stupid. You're only going to continue if you keep access to your tools.”

 

Stiles worried at his lower lip as Isaac shut the drawer and moved on to the next one. “No, I’ll stop. I promise.”

 

Isaac shook his head, moving away from the desk to look around the room as he tried to figure out where Stiles would hide everything. It would not need to be a very good hiding spot, as until that moment, there was not anyone who went through his things. “Please, just leave it. I promise, I’ll stop,” Stiles insisted yet again.

 

“You're lying,” retorted Isaac, looking to where his human friend sat looking ready to bolt or lash out at any moment. “Make this easier on us both, and just tell me where you put it.”

 

“I don't need your help!” Stiles snapped as he stood up, clenching his fists at his side. “I'm just fine.”

 

“No, Stiles, you're not. If you were fine, you wouldn't be hiding it.” Isaac bit back his want to growl in irritation at Stiles' stubbornness. It was not as if he expected any different.

 

“Why do you care, anyway?” Stiles clenched his jaw, all but glaring at Isaac before lunging in attempt to stop the curly-haired teen as Isaac reached for the correct drawer. “No!”

 

Isaac grabbed Stiles' wrist to keep him from taking hold of the drawer handle himself. He then moved Stiles so that he could keep him pinned to his side, unable to grab the first aid kit as Isaac picked it up with one hand. “I care,” Isaac said with a slight grunt as Stiles continued to struggle in his hold, “because you're my friend.”

 

“No, I’m not,” replied Stiles, elbowing Isaac in the side harshly, which made the werewolf recoil, though Isaac continued to hold the first aid kit out of his reach. “I hate you.”

 

The words hurt to hear, but Isaac could also hear the lie in them. Stiles was scared and upset, lashing out at him simply because he was _there_. “No, you don't, and you'll thank me once this is over with.”

 

Stiles simply glared off to the side, refusing to look at Isaac again. He was too tired to keep arguing or attempting to fight a werewolf for something. He just wanted to _sleep_ for days. Isaac sighed and hugged the first aid kit to his chest. “Will your dad be home soon?” Isaac questioned, only to sigh again when he received silence in response. “Well, I’m not leaving until he gets here.”

 

“What? You don't trust me alone now?” scoffed Stiles as he crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“At the moment? No.” Isaac shook his head while watching Stiles walk over to drop down onto his bed.

 

“This is stupid,” Stiles grumbled, still not looking at Isaac.

 

“Well, would you rather it be me here or Derek?” At the question, Stiles' eyes immediately snapped over to where Isaac stood. “He's worried about you because you've been acting different.”

 

Stiles worried at his lower lip, uncrossing his arms to wring his hands in his lap once again. “I'm fine,” Stiles said softly.

 

“No, Stiles, you're not; but, you will be.” Isaac nodded a little, sighing softly a moment later when he got no response from the other boy. “ _Please_ , just let me help you. It's... You're _scaring_ me, okay?” And Stiles could not even see how bad it was, which made it worse.

 

The anger seemed to leave Stiles' eyes, replaced by an air of sadness when he realized what Isaac had just admitted. His actions were _scaring_ the other teen. Was it really that bad? “I'm sorry,” he said softly, honestly, as he clenched and unclenched his fingers around the cuff of his hoodie. “I didn't mean... I don't know how to stop.”

 

“I know...” Isaac wet his lips as he sat aside the first aid kit, which he would take with him when he left, to go over and sit on the bed next to Stiles. He then grabbed Stiles' hand and gently squeezed it. “I'll help you. Promise you'll call if you need to, day or night.”

 

Stiles swallowed thickly, but nodded as he gently squeezed Isaac’s hand in return. “I promise.” Isaac did not detect a single lie.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Where have you been?” asked Derek when Isaac came into the kitchen and plopped down onto a chair at the table. The two of them, and Peter, were staying in the half-completed Hale House, which they were rebuilding after much persuasion from Lydia.

 

Isaac sighed and ran a hand over his face. “With Stiles,” he answered, lowering his hand to look over at Derek who had raised an eyebrow slightly.

 

“Should I be worried? You look like shit.”

 

Isaac shook his head in response and sighed as Derek simply narrowed his eyes a little in response, not believing that. “It's not my place to say, okay? Things... they'll be fine. Just... Stiles will probably, uh, be in a really bad mood for a while.”

 

Derek wanted to press the issue, but something about Isaac’s reluctance and the completely defeated look on his face made the alpha just nod a little in reply. He then walked over to the table and rested a hand on Isaac’s shoulder, gently squeezing it. Isaac sighed and closed his eyes for a few moments, taking comfort in the simple touch. A part of him just wanted to tell Derek everything he had discovered. He could not and would not hurt Stiles that way, though, not unless things got to the point where he could not help the other teen on his own. He at least owed it to his friend to _try_. “Thanks,” Isaac said after a few moments. “For not pushing or anything.”

 

Derek shrugged a little before nodding his head toward the kitchen stove as he said, “Help me with dinner.”

 

Meanwhile, dinner at the Stilinski house was quiet save the football game playing on the radio that sat on the counter a few feet away from the table. Stiles poked at his food more than he ate it, feeling slightly sick to his stomach after his intervention with Isaac that only grew a little worse when the curly-haired teen had actually _left_ with the first aid kit that held his razor blades and the medical tools he used to make sure he kept everything clean. His skin felt tight, like it was being stretched too far to cover everything inside. He was antsy and could not keep still, but that was not the ADHD, nor had he had too much caffeine, though that was what his father assumed. “Stiles, are you alright?” John Stilinski asked after a few long minutes.

 

Stiles looked up from his plate and smiled at his dad with a nod. “Yeah, Dad,” he replied, sighing softly before reaching for his glass of milk. “I'm just tired.”

 

John studied Stiles for a moment, slowly chewing his food but then he nodded. “Homework left?”

 

“Just half a page of math.” He lifted his shoulder in a shrug, planning on just rushing through the last problems in the morning. “Y'know, I’m really tired, Dad; I think I’m just going to go to bed.”

 

“Are you sure you're okay?” Stiles nodded and John sighed as he ran a hand over his thinning hair. “You know you can talk to me about anything, son, right?”

 

“Yeah, Dad, I know.” Stiles wet his lips, nodding as he kept his eyes trained on his plate for a moment before he got up and took the plate to the sink to rinse off.

 

Stiles then went up to his room and he did get ready for bed. He turned out the lights and he lay out on top of his blankets. However, he did not go to sleep, even after the sounds of his dad getting ready for bed an hour later died out. Stiles did not move until he was sure that his father was asleep, though. Then, Stiles left his bedroom quietly and made his way to the bathroom. He shut and locked the door after himself before he started a quiet search, hoping to find something, _anything_ he could use. He needed it, no matter what Isaac tried to tell him. A part of him knew that Isaac was right, that he needed to stop. It was dangerous and he could potentially really hurt himself. The need for that release in tension that he got, that feeling of pure _relief_ afterward, however, was stronger than that.

 

He sighed almost inaudibly when he found his dad's stash of extra razor blades. The sheriff would not notice one or two missing. So, Stiles took a couple, as well as some bandaging and the antiseptic. Once he had those, Stiles quietly made his way back to his bedroom, shutting and locking his door after himself. Isaac would be checking his arm, he _knew_ it. So, it looked like it was back to using his hip. If Stiles were thinking clearly, he would realize how terrifying his own thoughts and actions were, and he vaguely remembered Isaac’s scared words; but, as it was, his need for it was greater.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The following day, Stiles came over to the house to spend time with Derek, as he was known to do over the previous few months. The two of them were rather painfully dancing around the fact that there was a bond between them. They had no problems touching one another, hugging on occasion (usually when Stiles got hurt during a fight with the new problem in town), and talking (even about _personal_ things when they were alone). Neither one seemed to be willing to make that _next step_ , however. It was infuriating to all the betas, though they kept their mouths shut. It was not their place, after all. Stiles and Derek would work things out when they were meant to.

 

That day, the two of them were in the kitchen, talking about Jackson and Lydia coming back to town while Isaac worked on his stupid chemistry homework (with occasional help from Stiles) when Derek gently squeezed Stiles' hip as he was known to do. Both the werewolves noticed when Stiles flinched at the touch, and Isaac lowered his pencil as Derek quickly let him go. “Are you okay?” he asked, trying to not let the worry sound in his voice.

 

“Yeah,” Stiles replied with a nod, wetting his lips before shrugging a little. “I ran into the corner of my desk earlier. Must've been harder than I thought. There's probably a bruise. I’m fine.”

 

There was not a lie there, but Isaac, knowing what he did about Stiles, could not help but wonder if there was more to it than that. He did not say anything, however, though Stiles did not miss the worried look on the blue-eyed teen's face. Isaac quickly masked it when Derek looked over at him, not wanting to alert the man to anything that was going on.

 

That evening, Isaac took Stiles home since he had gotten a ride from Derek earlier. Neither one said anything, though Stiles did glare at Isaac a little when the other teen followed him inside. “I'm _fine_ ,” Stiles insisted once Isaac actually followed him all the way up to his bedroom.

 

“Then, let me see,” Isaac countered, arching an eyebrow as he stared at the teen in front of him.

 

Stiles huffed but did not move to let the other teen see his hip. “Can't you just trust me? I’m fine, Isaac.”

 

“No, I can't, Stiles. Not with this. I _know_ , okay? I know how hard it is. I just... Let me _see_.”

 

Stiles continued to refuse, and Isaac growled faintly before he left Stiles no choice. The other teen struggled as Isaac pushed him onto the bed so that he could remove Stiles' jeans from his way, only pulling them down enough on one side to be able to see his right hip. “This is nearing bad touch, dude!” Stiles insisted as he squirmed and tried to stop Isaac from undoing the clasp of his jeans, though honestly, he was up against a werewolf and had no chance at winning.

 

The younger teen avoided looking at Isaac when he heard another low growl from Isaac, knowing that the beta werewolf had seen the top of a few new cuts that peeked out over the waistband of his boxers. Isaac held them in place at the middle, tugging down on the side to expose Stiles' hip more while maintaining his modesty. “You said you were going to call me,” Isaac said lowly, setting his clothes back in place before pulling away to look at Stiles, who continued to look away.

 

“Changed my mind,” replied Stiles after he stood up, redoing the button on his pants so that he was fully clothed again. “Now that you're done practically molesting me, can you go?” Stiles knew that had not been what Isaac was doing, but still it was what he chose to say. He was mad, and scared; more scared than he wanted to admit.

 

“No.” Isaac shook his head, and Stiles looked to Isaac with a glare. At least Stiles was looking at him again.

 

Stiles then pushed past Isaac to go into the hall and then the bathroom, shutting and locking the door after himself. Isaac frowned and followed, leaning against the wall next to the door. His brow furrowed a little as he listened to the sounds of Stiles digging around in one of the drawers. What was he doing? It took Isaac the sound of the other teen sighing before smelling the coppery scent that went along with blood for him to push away from the wall and _yank_ the door open with a flash of gold eyes. There was a struggle as Isaac tried to take the small razor blade from Stiles, not sure where he found another one. Isaac growled threateningly in his ear as he yanked the blade away, not caring as it cut his own hand. It would heal in a few moments. “Stiles, _stop_ ,” Isaac insisted, tossing the blade out of the room and into the hall. He would personally rid the house of _all_ of them once Stiles was asleep, even if he had to sleep the teen Benedryl or something that would make him drowsy. “Just stop. _Look_ at what you're doing to yourself.” Isaac had a gentle yet firm grasp on Stiles' left wrist, holding his arm straight out in front of him while he kept Stiles pinned to his front with the other arm. “If you don't stop, it'll just get worse; deeper, thicker, because these won't do what you want anymore. I’ve _seen_ it. Please, please stop, Stiles. I can't watch that happen to you, too.”

 

Stiles was practically shaking in Isaac’s arms, looking straight ahead but not looking at his arm like Isaac had insisted. He shook his head, swallowing thickly as he felt his chest tighten. “I-I _can't_ , Isaac. You don't understand. I _need_ it.”

 

“No, you _don't_. You just think you do. You're stronger than this, Stiles. You can stop. Let me... let _us_ help you.”

 

Isaac was not completely sure what to do when he heard Stiles actually start _crying_. How long had their friend been _this_ broken without them seeing it? How had Stiles hidden it for so long, especially from Scott? Then again, they had only known each other a couple years. Some of the scars on Stiles' arm looked _old_ , probably from before Stiles ever met Scott. There was a chance that Scott did know, if Stiles had done it before but stopped only to start up again. Isaac was not sure what the trigger was, though. He simply sighed and let go of Stiles' arm to hug him tightly, careful not to accidentally hurt him. “Don't,” Stiles pleaded, struggling weakly in Isaac’s hold as he shook his head.

 

“I'm not going _anywhere_ ,” insisted Isaac as he shook his head as well. Only when Stiles stopped struggling did Isaac lead the two of them to sit down on the floor. Stiles' head rested on his shoulder and Isaac rested his head back against the wall, barely realizing just how cold the tiles underneath him were.

 

He knew that he needed to tell Stiles' dad, maybe Scott and Derek as well. John Stilinski deserved to know, at least. It would be Stiles' decision on the rest. “I'm going to tell your dad,” Isaac informed Stiles, sighing faintly when the other teen protested, like he had figured Stiles would. “I can't do this alone, especially since you won't _let_ me. Your dad... he deserves to know. The rest of the pack doesn't have to. I’ll keep your secret, I promise.” Stiles nodded a little, reluctantly, though he nodded all the same, his brown eyes focused on the arm that he had cradled to his chest, the one littered with marks. “Maybe you should come to my youth therapy. It's a group thing.”

 

Stiles' brow furrowed as he glanced up at Isaac. “You go to therapy?” he asked in a scratchy, tired voice. When Isaac nodded, he wet his lips and said, “Oh. I didn't know.”

 

“I know you didn't. Only Derek does because he takes me sometimes.” Isaac shrugged a little and nodded. “I've gone since... since my brother died. It... makes things easier.”

 

Stiles nodded a little, but he did not make any commitments. He sighed softly and shifted just enough to wrap his arms around Isaac’s middle, finally returning the hug. He wanted the comfort in the embrace, but at the same time he felt like cringing away. He did not want to be touched. Stiles was so _confused_. Nothing felt right anymore, and he had no idea what he was doing. It was with swirling thoughts that he slowly began to fall asleep, simply exhausted from everything.

 

Once Isaac was sure that Stiles was asleep, he carried the other teen to his bed room, letting him rest on the bed. He paused there in the room, waiting to see if the moving would wake Stiles any; but, once Stiles remained asleep, Isaac started searching through the house for anything that Stiles might use to hurt himself. Scissors, all the razors and extra blades, the knives from the kitchen, a box cutter he found in the junk drawer in the kitchen... all of it he put onto a pile on the kitchen table next to a box. He would let John decide what to actually _do_ with all of it.

 

When the sheriff finally came home that evening, his brow lifted when he saw Isaac Lahey sitting at the kitchen table quietly instead of his son anywhere around. He was not sure what was going on and he frowned when he saw everything on the table. John swore one of the razor blades even had a little blood on it. “What's going on?” John asked quietly.

 

“I need to talk to you,” Isaac said quietly, absentmindedly wetting his lips while glancing over to the stairs that led to the upper floor, where Stiles was still sleeping. “It's about Stiles...”


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stiles talks to his dad, a therapist, and Scott.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank everyone who has been reading this and left reviews. I'm still working out just how this story is going to end and how long it will be. I hope to see you stick around.

* * *

When Stiles woke up several hours later, it was dark outside and quiet in the house. Stiles' room was dark but he could see a faint light on the landing from the hall at the bottom of the stairs. His brow furrowed a little as he struggled to remember just how he had gotten to his bed. The last thing he remembered was sitting on the bathroom floor with Isaac. Stiles sighed softly and rubbed furiously at his face with his hands. How was he going to explain the busted bathroom door to his dad? Sure, the sheriff knew about werewolves; but, how would he explain why Isaac had needed to rip it off in the first place? Then, he remembered that Isaac had said something about telling his dad, which made his stomach knot in a thousand different ways. Maybe it was just a scare tactic, Stiles thought to himself as he made his way downstairs slowly and quietly. He could hear the sound of someone in the kitchen, and he thought he heard a soft voice say that he was awake.

 

Stiles wet his lips absentmindedly and slowly walked over to the doorway of the kitchen, finding his father and Isaac in the room. There was food cooked and sitting in containers on the counter (it looked like something Isaac threw together), and John Stilinski was sitting slightly hunched over, resting his head in his hand as he seemed to be struggling with his emotions. Stiles inhaled sharply through his nose when he saw the box sitting in the middle of the table, holding practically every sharp object that had been in the house or garage. Isaac watched Stiles silently from where he was leaning against the counter next to the fridge. The younger teen avoided his eyes when John slowly turned his head to look at his son. Stiles swallowed thickly, unable to bring himself to look at his father. “Dad, I...” Stiles choked out, his voice scratchy and irritating to his throat.

 

It was all he managed to get out before John was quickly standing up and crossing the room to pull Stiles into a tight hug. Stiles squirmed a bit, almost trying to get out of the embrace, but John was not letting him go. After a moment, Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, hiding his face in his father's shoulder as he tightly returned the embrace, mumbling as he did, “I'm sorry, dad.”

 

“No,” replied John with a sniff as he pulled away enough to look at Stiles, placing each hand on either of his son's shoulders. “ _I’m_ sorry, son. I should have known something was wrong. I should have seen...”

 

Stiles quickly shook his head, lifting a hand to gently squeeze his dad's arm. “I didn't want you to; I didn't... I don't... Dad...” Stiles had so many things he wanted to say, to try to explain himself. Nothing seemed like the right words, however, and Stiles struggled to keep himself from panicking at the fact that his father _knew_. Isaac had told his dad, and that terrified him. It made everything seem that much more real and scary, like it had all just been a twisted dream before.

 

“We're going to talk about it more in the morning, Stiles,” John insisted with a nod, pulling his son into a firm hug once again with a slightly lingering kiss to the side of his head. “We'll talk about what we're going to do, and just... Everything. I want to know everything, Stiles.”

 

The teen nodded, but did not vocalize an answer. He was not even sure his voice would work. He was too busy trying to convince himself that it was a good thing that Isaac had told his dad, that it was for the best because he could get more help. He did not want the help, though. He simply wanted to be left to his way of coping. Stiles was too tired to put up a fight about it, and soon found himself sitting on the couch in the living room with his father and Isaac on either side of him. There was some mindless comedy on the television and they were all poking at their dinner.

 

None of them were hungry, though they all needed to eat. They were not sure what to say, either; but, Stiles found that the fact that they were just _there_ made him feel a lot better than any of their words of assurance or support ever did. He was terrified about what the next day would bring, so Stiles tried not to think about it.

 

The hours seemed to trickle by, but soon enough Stiles found himself returning to his bedroom, that time with Isaac. The curly-haired teen had texted Derek to let the pack alpha know that he would not be returning to the house that evening, knowing that Derek worried even when the man did not _say_ it; and, he borrowed some of Stiles' clothes to sleep in. They lay in silence on Stiles' bed, listening to the faint (at least to Stiles) sounds of his father getting ready for bed in the other room. It was not until enough time had passed that Stiles was sure his father had gone to sleep that Stiles spoke. His voice shook slightly as he said, “I'm mad at you.”

 

“I know,” replied Isaac with a nod, knowing that Stiles was not happy with the fact that he had talked to John about what was going on. Isaac was scared for Stiles, though; and, he had no idea what to do, not on his own. He also knew that the fact that Stiles was so bad meant that, even if it was deep down, Stiles knew his actions were not good ones, ones that did need to be stopped.

 

Stiles sighed softly and closed his eyes, shifting enough to try to get comfortable. He sighed faintly once again, turning his face into the pillow slightly in a way that muffled his next statement, though it was not enough that Isaac could not hear him. “Thank you.”

 

Isaac smiled sadly and gently squeezed Stiles' upper arm in response. Then, the two of them lay in silence, each one slowly falling asleep. Isaac’s dreams were filled with screaming, crying, and massive amounts of blood; while Stiles did not remember his dream the following morning when his alarm went off, signaling that it was time to get up and get ready for school.

 

The two teens were eating breakfasts of cereal in the kitchen, already dressed for school (Isaac wearing clothes he had left at the Stilinski house weeks before after having had them washed there because he had gotten rained on) when John came in. He was dressed, but not in his uniform, though Stiles knew that his father was supposed to work that morning. “Isaac, why don't you head on to school?” John suggested with a weak, tired smile. “I'm keeping Stiles home from school today.”

 

Stiles swallowed thickly as he pushed his cereal bowl aside, no longer hungry. He started to play with the cuffs of his hoodie sleeves, clenching and unclenching his fingers around them, as Isaac nodded. “Would it be alright if I stopped by this afternoon?” he asked, looking between the sheriff and his son.

 

Stiles seemed hopeful at the question and John nodded as he said, “Yeah; I don't see why not.”

 

The two teens smiled faintly and said their good-byes before Isaac left the two Stilinski men alone in the house. John let out a breath and ran a hand through his thinning hair as he watched Stiles. “Everything Isaac brought me has been put away somewhere,” John explained in a calm voice as he sat down across from Stiles at the table. His son simply nodded in response, keeping his brown eyes focused on his hands as he wrung them together. “Isaac said he talked to you about doing a group therapy. Would... uh... would you like to do that?”

 

“No,” answered Stiles smally, shaking his head without looking up from his hands, “but I will.” He did not want anything to do with recovery. He did not feel that he needed it. However, seeing his father so broken had shaken something in him that even Isaac’s fear had never touched. Stiles was not sure what he was doing; but, he never wanted to see that look on his dad's face ever again.

 

“Okay.” John nodded a little, resting his arms on the table while watching the tired teen in front of him. “I can call the family center when they open in an hour to set things up.”

 

Once again, Stiles simply nodded in response, unable to make his voice cooperate. He wanted to scream and throw a fit, to fight anything and everything that was suggested. Once again, though, when he glanced up and saw the _defeated_ look in his dad's eyes, Stiles found himself pushing aside his _wants_ yet again. “I don't know what I’m doing here, Stiles,” John admitted after a few minutes of calm silence between them.

 

Stiles clenched his teeth a little as he nodded, wetting his lips as he said, “I-I know. I don't either.” He shook his head as he finally stilled his hands, dropping them into his lap as he crossed his arms over his stomach, pressing his fingers firmly against his hip where there was still a few healing cuts. “I'm sorry, dad. I never... I never meant to hurt you.”

 

“You didn't hurt me, Stiles,” sighed John as he reached over to gently squeeze his son's right wrist. “ _I’m_ the one who should be sorry. I’m your father. It's part of my job description to make sure you're healthy, and happy, and I’ve failed you.”

 

“Dad, no,” Stiles replied, his eyes widening slightly in horror at the words that left the sheriff's mouth. “No, no, no. You've not... You haven't. You're amazing, Dad, I... It's me. S'just me.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Where's Stiles?” questioned Scott, his brow furrowing as he looked down the hallway for his best friend before looking to Isaac, who smelled strongly of the two Stilinskis.

 

Isaac sighed and crossed his arms over his chest while leaning against the wall of lockers with a faint frown. “John kept him home from school today,” Isaac answered, nodding a little. “It's... Stiles just needs a bit of time away.” Scott studied Isaac for a moment before he started to walk down the hall, determined to go over to Stiles' place and check on his friend; however, he barely made it a few steps before Isaac took a hold of his arm. “Don't, Scott.”

 

“Why not?” Scott's brow furrowed once again, pausing his steps as he turned to look at Isaac.

 

“This is something that Stiles should come to you about.” Isaac nodded a little, trying not to seem as worried as he really was. “When he's ready for you to know, you will.”

 

“Well, how come you know and I don't?”

 

Scott's voice held an edge of bitterness that made both of them wince and he immediately sent Isaac an apologetic glance as the curly-haired teen sighed heavily. “It's... complicated. Just, please trust me. Let him come to you. You'll just scare him even more than he is otherwise.”

 

Scott wet his lips as he looked from Isaac to the doors, letting his gaze linger there before looking back to Isaac again. He then nodded and said, “Fine. I’ll trust you. Just... will he be okay?”

 

“Yeah,” answered Isaac with a slightly relieved sigh and a faint smile. “I think he will be.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“The pack's worried about you,” Isaac said as he sat down on Stiles' desk chair, watching the other teen sort through the homework he had brought for him.

 

Stiles paused his hands, glancing up at Isaac before looking back to his homework. “Did you tell them?” he questioned, voice shaking ever so slightly though he struggled to keep it even.

 

Isaac shook his head, though Stiles was not even looking at him. “No, I didn't. Lydia was pissy that I did not tell them, and Jackson looked like he wanted he wanted to punch someone in the face all day.” Stiles smiled ever so faintly at that statement, rolling his eyes a little when he saw the extra homework that Harris had given him for not being there. “I don't know who was more worried, though, Scott or Danny. Scott seemed more upset that I wouldn't tell them than Danny, but he kept starting texts to you that he never sent.”

 

Stiles looked up at Isaac then, resting his hands in his lap, idly twisting them together. “They were really worried about _me_?” he questioned softly, looking torn between confused and saddened by that idea.

 

The curly-haired beta nodded a little with a faint smile. “Of course they were, Stiles. You're important to all of us, y'know.”

 

Inhaling heavily, Stiles nodded before he let out the deep breath. “Dad got me an appointment to meet with Dr. Koln tomorrow after school, kind of like an introductory session. I’m supposed to go to the group on Friday.”

 

“I'll be there,” Isaac told him with a reassuring smile, crossing his arms over the back of the chair that he was sitting on, having sat on it backward. “Lukas... Dr. Koln, is very nice. He actually cares, y'know? Before we were friends, he was the only person to remember my birthday.” Isaac lifted his shoulders in a shrug, though a faint smile formed on his face at the memory. Sometimes, it was just the small things that most people took for granted that meant the most.

 

Once again, the two of them ended up falling asleep on Stiles' bed, that time more curled up together. Stiles did not mind that Isaac took the initiative to hug him close. It made him feel safer and just for a little while he was not so afraid of the following afternoon. Drifting off to sleep, the last thing Stiles remembered thinking was trying to figure out just how he was going to explain things to people without letting them know _everything_.

 

Morning came much too soon for Stiles' liking, and he found himself sitting at the table with his father and Isaac as they ate the breakfast that Isaac had made for them. None of them really spoke much, talking about anything but the day to come until Stiles and Isaac were about to leave the house. “I'll meet you at the family center,” John Stilinski told his son, who nodded a little as he clenched his fingers around the hoodie that he was wearing that day that he was honestly sure was not actually his son's.

 

“Yeah, I... yeah,” replied Stiles with another nod, absentmindedly wetting his lips before sighing softly. He did not want to go to therapy. He did not want this. However, he swallowed thickly and nodded once again before he and Isaac headed out to the jeep.

 

Stiles was thankful when his curly-haired friend did not ask any questions or try to force conversation. They simply listened to the rock music that played over Stiles' speakers from the radio as the slightly younger of the two drove. Isaac’s gaze was out the passenger window the entire time. When they got to the school, Derek’s Camaro was parked near the edge of the parking lot and he stood talking with Erica and Boyd. Stiles almost attempted to sink down lower in his seat, though he could not do much of that without risking losing control of the car. Isaac sent him a kind, reassuring smile before they both climbed out of the car. He walked around the Jeep to stand next to Stiles just before Danny came up to them both. “Morning,” the popular lacrosse player said with a smile, resting a hand on Stiles' shoulder with a gentle squeeze. “Did you two get that paper for Harris done?”

 

Stiles let out a slightly heavy breath of relief when Danny did not ask about him skipping the day before, and the three of them started to walk into the school. Nobody would question him with Danny right there, else they risk that _look_ that Danny was so good at that let them know they were in shit. Stiles could not keep from smiling a little at the slight looks Isaac was giving their mutual friend every so often, shyly looking through his lashes. Stiles really wanted to just push the two of them into a closet or something; but, he was also content to just let them figure everything out on their own.

 

It lasted until the beginning of first class, where Danny had to go to a different homeroom, and Stiles sighed softly as he found himself surrounded by Lydia, Jackson, Scott, and Allison. “Dude, are you okay?” questioned Scott, his brow furrowing as Stiles repetitively clicked his pen.

 

He glanced across the room to where Isaac was having to sit for lack of unoccupied seats closer. He nodded a little at the reassuring smile he received, wetting his lips before said, “No. I’m not.” He shook his head a little, wringing his hands on top of the desk, sighing softly. “I'm going to start therapy this week. I don't... I don't want to talk about it, please.”

 

Lydia pursed her lips while Jackson looked indifferent, and Scott seemed to fight his want to ask more questions. Allison simply reached over and gently squeezed his hand, making him smile a little. “Alright, you little shits, listen up,” Coach Finstock announced as he came striding into the room, making Allison pull away from Stiles and everyone face the front. “The first cross country meet...” Stiles tuned out the rest of the coach's spiel about going out to support the team. He had planned on being a part of cross country that year, but he missed the sign up date.

 

Throughout the day, Stiles ignored the worried looks that Scott kept giving him, though those died out when Stiles mumbled that he would explain fully to him later, and the glances that Jackson gave him as well. Jackson’s expression was blank, but there was something in his eyes that let those who _knew_ him know that he was worried about Stiles as well. Lydia brought him extra curly fries at lunch, but otherwise treated him no differently. Allison and Erica tried to not treat him any differently, but he did not miss the worried and confused looks they gave him every so often. Boyd was mostly quiet, as always, and treated Stiles no different. Boyd was his favorite, Stiles decided.

 

After school, Derek was waiting to pick up Isaac, Boyd, and Erica. He leaned back against the side of the Camaro, his hands in the pockets of his leather coat. He did not ask as Stiles came over to stand in front of him, but the eighteen-year-old sighed and said, “My dad's got me signed up to meet a therapist today.”

 

Derek’s lips tightened in a firmer line as he nodded slightly. He seemed to be struggling with his want to ask Stiles what was going on, and Stiles was glad that he did not actually ask. “Can I come over Friday a few hours after school?” Stiles asked after a moment, shifting awkwardly, glancing over to the front doors of the school where the betas were all walking out together, though Jackson wore a pained expression on his face as if it physically hurt him to be seen so close to Scott.

 

“Yes,” answered Derek without any hesitation, nodding once before standing up straight. “Where did you get that jacket?”

 

Stiles smirked a little as he looked to the ground, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. It was Derek’s hoodie, not one he ever really wore, which was how Stiles had managed to steal it after having used it before the heat in the Hale House had been fixed. “I'll be late if I don't go now.”

 

Derek nodded a little, but did not try to make Stiles stay. They did not say anything else before Stiles walked over to where his Jeep was parked. Stiles took a deep breath and just sat there for a moment before he started the car and drove to the family center. His father's cruiser was already sitting in the parking lot by the time he got there. Stiles was slightly shaky when he climbed out of his car, and he let out a breath he did not realize he was holding when his father rested a hand on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze. “Do you want me to go in with you or wait in the waiting area?” questioned John as they walked inside.

 

“Could you... could you just wait?” Stiles replied softly, wringing his hands together as he walked next to his dad down the hall past the day care center and child services offices to the family and child therapy office.

 

John nodded a little and smiled faintly at Stiles before going over to the desk to check in with the receptionist, who told them Dr. Koln would call him when it was his turn. Both of the Stilinski men took seats along the back wall, neither one saying anything. Stiles bounced one of his knees, closing his eyes as he let his head rest against the wall behind him. He had the strong urge to just _run_ , but once again remembering how scared and distraught his father had seemed kept him there. “I'm scared,” Stiles admitted almost silently after a few quiet minutes had passed.

 

The town sheriff glanced over to his son, frowning faintly as he reached over and placed a reassuring hand on top of Stiles' left hand that was resting on his leg. “I know,” replied John with a nod. He was just as scared as his son was, and had no idea what else to do. He still felt responsible. How had he not seen? “We'll get through this, Stiles.”

 

“I--”

 

“Stilinski?” questioned a man who came into the room, looking at a folder in his hands, making both men look to him. The man that they assumed to be Dr. Koln smiled as he closed the folder. “Are we both coming back?”

 

“No.” Stiles cleared his throat a little, reaching over with his other hand to gently squeeze his father's wrist before he stood up.

 

He then followed Dr. Koln back to his office. It was decorated with different drawings, Stiles suspected they were by different people that came into the office. A slight smile tugged on his lips when he recognized Isaac’s handwriting in the corner of one of the drawings that was a very skilled piece depicting the entire pack over at Derek’s. “Go ahead and take a seat,” Dr. Koln said as he gestured to the various types of chairs scattered around the office. “It says here you go by 'Stiles', correct?” The teen nodded as he sat down in the cushioned chair with wooden arms similar to what one would see in a principal's office; at least, that was what Stiles likened it to. “You can call me Dr. Koln, or simply Lukas.”

 

Stiles nodded once again, crossing his arms over his chest as he sank down low in the chair. “Isaac said good things about you.”

 

The smile on Lukas' face was soft, yet honest. “Isaac is one of my favorite people. He is a great kid, and it does me good seeing him smile more now.”

 

“Yeah.” Stiles nodded slightly, wetting his lips as he stared at the finger painting taped on the front of Dr. Koln's desk that looked as though it was done by a five-year-old. “So... I don't... I mean... Why am I here?”

 

“Well, I’d like to get to know a bit about you, Stiles.” Lukas laced his fingers together as he rested his arms on top of his desk, watching the teen sitting in front of him. “Why did your father feel that you needed to see me?”

 

Stiles sighed and uncrossed his arms to simply rest his arms on his legs, clenching his fingers around the cuffs of Derek’s hoodie on his left hand, using the right hand to toy with the zipper. He had yet to _say_ what it was that he had done; he was not sure if he could bring himself to voice it, either, especially to a stranger. “I...” Stiles struggled to continue speaking, and he sighed before he simply pushed up the sleeve of the jacket he wore, exposing the scars and recent cuts on his arm. “Isaac noticed that I was... That something was wrong. He, uh... he told me about his...” Stiles gestured to his side where Isaac’s scarring was.

 

“Yes, Isaac has... Well, he's had a rough time. He's lucky to have made some great friends.” Lukas nodded to Isaac’s drawing on the wall, and Stiles glanced back over to it with a faint smile before looking back to the therapist. “So, tell me about school, Stiles. Do you like it?”

 

Stiles sighed softly once again, tugging down on the sleeve of his hoodie to hide away again, running a hand through his hair. He did not want to answer questions, but as long as they stayed away from upsetting topics, Stiles answered until their small session was finished.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When they got back to the house, Scott was sitting on the front porch, with an expression that made both John and Stiles think of a kicked puppy. “I'll order us a pizza,” John said with a nod as they neared the porch and Scott stood up, brushing off the back of his jeans.

 

“Veggie, Dad,” Stiles insisted, smiling faintly when John grumbled good-naturedly. Stiles put his hands into his jacket pockets and sighed softly, wetting his lips for a moment. “C'mon, let's go upstairs so that we can talk.”

 

“Okay,” replied Scott, nodding a little.

 

He asked no questions, though he was dying to, and remained quiet as they settled down in Stiles' room, both of them sitting on the bed. Scott was impatiently waiting, but remembered what Isaac had told him about letting Stiles come to him. “I'm sorry,” Stiles said quietly after a few tense minutes, wetting his lips.

 

Scott's brow furrowed as he looked at his best friend, not quite understanding what was going on. “What? Why are you apologizing?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even though he was scared enough that it did not want to cooperate.

 

“I don't know how it started, I just... it made me feel better.” Stiles lifted his shoulders in a shrug, sighing at the complete confusion written on his best friend's face. Stiles then pulled up the left sleeve of the hoodie and moved his arm so that Scott could see what was there.

 

“Stiles...” Scott's voice mixed with a slight growl that made the teen flinch faintly. “What is...? _Why_?”

 

Stiles wet his lips as he tried to think of the best way to explain his thoughts and feelings, tugging the hoodie sleeve down over his arm again. Once it was in place, he curled his fingers around the cuff of it, keeping it pinned where it was. “Everything that was happening around me... it just... it felt like _too much_ , like I was constantly in a panic attack... I couldn't breathe. It... it took that away, gave me something else to focus on, to feel. I’m not even sure if that makes sense.” Stiles shook his head a little, running his right hand through his hair while continuing to hold the hoodie in place with his left. He nervously glanced over at Scott, who continued to wear an expression that told Stiles that his best friend was completely lost, and he sighed heavily. “I can't explain it better than that.”

 

Scott shook his head a little as he reached over to gently squeeze Stiles' shoulder. “No, it's not... Stiles, why wouldn't you tell us you were hurting that badly? Why didn't you tell _me_?”

 

“You had enough to worry about,” Stiles answered smally, lifting his shoulders in a shrug.

 

“Dude, _no_. If something's wrong, _tell_ me. I don't care what's going on in my life. If you feel like you need to share it, then do it.” Scott nodded a little, shifting closer to Stiles to pull the other teen into a firm hug without harming him any. “You're my best friend. You matter to me, y'know.”

 

Stiles swallowed thickly and nodded, slowly relaxing into the hug, leaning against Scott more than actually returning the affectionate gesture. He wished he knew how to explain to Scott that it had nothing to do with not feeling like he mattered to someone, though often that was a driving force in some of his negative emotions, it was more tied in to what he thought and felt about himself. “I'm sorry,” was what he said, instead.

 

That evening, Stiles and Scott stayed up late talking, Scott trying his hardest to understand what Stiles was sstruggling to explain, and John did not make them go to bed despite having school the following morning. He knew that Stiles was nervous about the group therapy session the following day, and what he really needed was the support of his family and friends.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn about Danny's sister, and Stiles talks to Derek after group therapy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you to everyone who is reading and/or reviewing this story. **ADDED TRIGGER WARNINGS:** There are brief mentions of side characters with eating disorders and abuse, but no details.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles bounced his knee, wringing his hands on his lap as he sank down low in his chair. The school day had passed by in a blur after John had gotten him and Scott up for school well after the start of first class. Isaac reached over and took Stiles' hand in his own, squeezing gently. “You'll be fine,” he assured quietly.

 

Stiles let out a deep breath, squeezing Isaac’s hand tightly as he nodded a little. Just then, Dr. Koln came into the room. “Good afternoon, everyone,” he said as he took the only empty seat in the circle of chairs that were stationed in the middle of the large room. “We've a new member to the group today, Stiles Stilinski.” Stiles waved awkwardly with his free hand, glad that he did not know anyone but Isaac there. “So, let's go around the circle and introduce ourselves.”

 

Lukas gestured to the girl sitting on his left, who took a deep breath before smiling at Stiles as she said, “My name's Dru.”

 

They went around and Stiles found out the others' names were Spencer, Bryan, Skyler, Katherine, Bill, and Lizzie. “And, of course, you know Isaac,” Lukas said with a warm smile in Stiles' direction. “Who wants to share first this afternoon?”

 

“My parents are getting a divorce,” Skyler said without raising his hand, earning him a dark look from Lizzie. “I mean, I’ve known it was coming, but they've finally _said_ it, and dad's moving out.”

 

“How does that make you feel?” questioned Lukas as he crossed one leg over the other.

 

“I'm fine with it. It gets him away.” Skyler shrugged, toying with a string bracelet he wore on his right wrist. “I mean, he's still my dad, but he's such an asshole, and he still hates Bryan.”

 

Bryan smirked a little from his chair, reaching over to link his fingers with Skyler's before kissing the back of his hand. “Yeah, well, I’m not going anywhere,” the dark-haired teen stated.

 

Everyone continued to go around, talking about their lives; some of them got very personal, like Katherine, and others more vague, like Isaac. Stiles remained quiet the entire time, until Spencer fixed a look at him and asked, “Why are you here?”

 

Stiles squeezed Isaac’s hand a little more, strong enough that he was sure he could break bone. Isaac did not even flinch. “I, uh, I don't... I’m... well, apparently, curly-haired best friends don't take too well to finding out you're self-destructive.”

 

He smiled slightly over at Isaac, who seemed to be in quiet shock at the realization of what Stiles was saying before he nudged Stiles with his elbow. Both teens smiled a little and Stiles shrugged slightly. “I don't like who I am,” he admitted honestly, wincing at Isaac’s tightened grip on his hand in response.

 

“Sorry,” Isaac said quietly as he loosened his grip again. There would probably be a bruise there later, and Isaac felt terrible about it, but Stiles figuratively shrugged it off. It was not like Isaac had done it on purpose.

 

The rest of the meeting went without any passing judgments. Stiles found out that Katherine used to starve herself, and Skyler struggled with bulimia. Bryan was schizophrenic, but he was on anti-psychotics to help with his delusions. Spencer suffered from PTS, while both Bill and Lizzie had dealt with abusive step-parents and were still dealing with the aftermath. Stiles knew more of Isaac’s story than any of the others did, but there was good reason for that. “Who did you lose?” Bryan asked Stiles near the end of the session.

 

It was the one thing they all had in common; they all had lost someone who meant the world to them. Stiles tensed in his chair while Isaac shot a glare in Bryan's direction. “My mother,” Stiles answered quietly as Dr. Koln was warning Bryan against asking prying questions. “She got really sick a few years ago and never got better.”

 

The room grew quiet for a few long moments before Lukas sighed and set his pen down on the notebook that rested on his lap. “That's all the time we have for today,” the man said. “I'll see you all next week.”

 

Neither Stiles or Isaac spoke as they grabbed their jackets and went outside, not until they got to the Jeep, at least. “Need a ride?” Stiles asked Isaac, idly toying with the sleeve cuff of the hoodie he wore, the one he had stolen from Derek.

 

“Nah, I’m gonna run over to Danny’s to work on a school project,” replied Isaac as he put his hands into his jacket pockets. He did not need to state that it was his way of giving Stiles and Derek some space at the house, knowing that was where the other teen was heading. “Are you okay?”

 

Stiles worried at his lower lip as he thought about it before lifting his shoulders in a shrug. To be honest, he had no idea how he felt. “This whole thing seems stupid,” Stiles mumbled as he pulled his keys out of his pocket.

 

“I used to think so, too. Now, I’ve a place to go to and talk without being judged. I mean, I’d never talk about werewolf things. I don't want whatever they have Bryan on. It smells funny.”

 

Stiles could not keep from chuckling a little at the way Isaac scrunched his face up at the mention of Bryan's medication. That was the one thing Stiles hoped to avoid, medication. Plus, he was not sure how other medications would react to his Adderall. “I'll see you later, then,” Stiles stated as he opened up the door to his Jeep.

 

“Are you staying over tonight?” Isaac double checked that he still had his phone and key ring that held his key to the Hale House, and one to Derek's Camaro, for emergencies _only_ , as he spoke.

 

With a shrug, Stiles settled into the driver's seat. “Dad's working tonight, so... maybe.”

 

The two teens continued to talk, Isaac promising to bring pizza later, before they went their separate ways. It did not take Isaac much time to get to Danny’s place, and when he got there, Danny’s mother answered the door. “Oh, hello, Isaac,” she said with a warm smile. “Danny's up in his room if you'd like to go on up. He said you two are doing a presentation in history?”

 

“Yes, ma'am, on World War II,” replied the teen with a nod.

 

The slightly shorter woman smiled and stepped out of the way to let Isaac into the house. He then made his way upstairs to the third door on the right, Danny’s room. Danny was sitting on the floor with his back to the door, playing dolls with his little sister, who was all giggles and smiles due to her big brother spending time acting silly with her. Isaac smiled to himself and reached up with one hand to knock on the door frame.

 

The sudden sound made Danny jump, dropping the doll in his hand as he turned to look at the door. A smile quickly formed on his face when he saw Isaac standing there. “Come play dolls with us!” Julia, Danny’s sister, insisted.

 

“Alright,” replied Isaac with a shrug before he walked over to sit next to Danny on the floor. “Which one should I be?”

 

Danny chuckled as his friend appeased his little sister, nodding seriously as he was appointed the task of playing the prince because he was pretty like one, according to Julia. “You've definitely got a good eye, there, Jules,” Danny told her with a soft laugh, smiling slightly over at Isaac. “Isaac is very pretty.”

 

Isaac laughed awkwardly, trying to hide the fact that a pink tint colored his cheeks. He should be able to control things like that. However, when Danny smiled brightly at him, he smiled too.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles sighed softly when he parked the Jeep in the driveway of the Hale House. Derek's Camaro was out front, letting Stiles know that he was there. He just sat there for a while before he forced himself to get out of the car and go inside. The house was silent and still, leaving Stiles with no idea where Derek was, though he knew the werewolf was aware where _he_ was in the house. He made his way toward the library, or what would be the library when it was finished, to see if Derek was working. When he got there, however, he was surprised to find that the library was finished.

 

Books lined the shelves and there was a piano in one corner near the picture window. Stiles wondered if it was Derek or Peter who played as he walked around the room. He had not touched a piano himself since his mother died. The one that had been in the house until then had been sold shortly after she had passed. Stiles walked over to the piano and reached out with one hand to press over the keys needed to play a very small section of a song that hardly ever left his head, a song his mother had written. “I didn't know you could play,” Derek stated as he came into the room quietly.

 

The teen surprised himself in the fact that he did not start at Derek’s sudden arrival. He guessed that he was just used to it by then. That, or he was just that out of it. He nodded a little. “My mom taught me, said it would give restless hands something productive to do,” he explained as he nodded once again. “I don't really play anymore.” He wet his lips as he pulled his hand away, crossing both arms over his chest. “The room looks nice. How much of the house is left to do?”

 

“Just a couple rooms.” Derek nodded a little as he walked over to where Stiles was staring out of the window. Stiles could tell that Derek was restless, wanting to ask what was going on. It took a long few minutes of silence between them before the man finally asked, “Stiles, what's going on?”

 

“Isaac didn't tell you?” Stiles asked as he turned to face Derek, who simply shook his head in response. Stiles nodded a little, thankful for that, though he wished that Isaac had said something at the same time. That way, he would not have to say it himself. “I'm... I... Fuck. Okay, I’m... I’m not okay.” Stiles shook his head slightly, wetting his lips while staring at a fixed point on Derek’s shoulder so that he did not have to look directly at the man in front of him. “Derek, I...”

 

Stiles found that he could not bring himself to tell Derek what was going on. The words were right there on the tip of his tongue, but he could not force them out. He inhaled sharply when the man stepped closer, arms circling around his waist. The teen squeezed his eyes shut, resting his forehead on Derek’s shoulder as the pack alpha held him close. Stiles gripped Derek’s shirt tightly in each hand on either side of the man's torso. “I'm so tired,” Stiles mumbled, letting go of Derek’s shirt after a long while to wrap both arms around him in turn.

 

Derek kept him upright as his body practically sagged against Derek’s. Stiles clenched his eyes shut again as Derek soothingly ran a hand over his back, the other hand resting on the back of his neck. “C'mon, let's go sit in the living room,” Derek suggested.

 

The teen nodded a little, but he made no motion to move away from Derek. They stood there a few minutes longer before Derek picked up Stiles, who let out a muffled sort of protest that went ignored. “I can walk, you know,” Stiles said quietly while Derek shifted him in his arms so that the teen was cradled against his chest, head on his shoulder.

 

“Yeah, well, you weren't,” replied Derek, sitting down on the couch without letting go of Stiles, which left the teen sitting on his lap. “Talk.”

 

Stiles sighed softly and wet his lips, trying to think of how to tell Derek. It was more difficult than talking to anyone else for a reason that Stiles could not explain. “Isaac's helping me,” Stiles said quietly as he toyed with the sleeve cuffs of the hoodie yet again. “I've been... Off and on for a while, I’ve been, uh, well, I guess they call it self-harm.”

 

Derek tensed as he listened to Stiles, leaning to the side enough to try to catch Stiles' gaze. “That's why Isaac’s been so worried about you,” Derek stated quietly. Stiles nodded and sighed softly in response, still not looking at Derek. “Can I see?”

 

It was Stiles' turn to tense up, the color draining from his face. Scott had freaked out when he had seen, Isaac’s worry had been written on his face, and his dad... Well, his dad had cried. He was not sure what Derek’s reaction was going to be, and he was not sure he wanted to know. After worrying at his lower lip for a long few moments, Stiles sat up fully and pushed up on the left sleeve of the hoodie until it was above his elbow. “Why?” Derek asked quietly as he reached out to run his fingers along the side of Stiles' forearm, just outside the area that was marred and scarred. Stiles was thankful for the fact that it was as close to his scars that Derek got; he was not sure he could handle that, for some reason.

 

“Everyone asks that,” answered the teen with a faint, slightly bitter laugh. “I never know how to answer. I can't... There's no words to explain it, not really.” Stiles shook his head as he spoke. He was not sure what Derek was thinking or anything, the man's face stoic as usual, and it was making him feel even more nervous. “Please, say something.”

 

“I don't know what you want me to say,” Derek replied, letting go of Stiles' arm only to take hold of his hand. “I've never known anyone that's... done that before. Or, I’ve never known that anyone I know has done it.” Derek shook his head a little. Sure, he knew all about it being in pop culture and some considered it a fad, which was ridiculously stupid; but, he'd never _known_ someone who struggled with it, while they did, anyway. He knew that Isaac had at one point, but they never talked about it because Isaac insisted it was no longer an issue. Derek had never, ever even considered the fact that Stiles, of all people, could be that... lost. “I'm sorry. I don't know what I’m doing.”

 

Stiles smiled faintly at that, nudging Derek lightly with his elbow. “That's nothing new,” he replied, earning himself a slight glare in response. Stiles smiled a little again, tugging down on the hoodie sleeve with his free hand to cover his arm again. “D'you mind if I stay here tonight? Dad's working late, and-”

 

“Stiles, you don't have to ask,” Derek reminded him with a shake of his head, earning another slight smile from Stiles.

 

“Okay.” Stiles nodded a little, crossing his arm over his chest, leaving his other hand where it was with Derek’s hand around it. “I, uhm, 'm going to the group therapy with Isaac, now. I don't... I don't like it. I think it's stupid, but he thinks it'll help.” Derek nodded a little, settling down onto the couch more, having a strong suspicion that Stiles was not planning on moving any time soon and Derek, well, Derek was not inclined to make him. “I don't want to stop, though. I dunno how to... to _cope_ with anything without it.”

 

“You'll learn,” Derek replied with a slight nod, gently squeezing Stiles' hand. “You've got all of us to help you.” Stiles nodded a little, worrying at his lower lip as he tried to think of the words he wanted to say. Instead, he settled for just sitting there, listening to Derek talk about the last of the remodeling plans when the man realized that Stiles was ready for them to discuss something else for the time being.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“So, I’m not going to ask what is going on with Stiles,” Danny stated as he spun around in his desk chair to face Isaac, who was sitting on Danny’s bed, going over the notes on what all they'd need for their presentation while Danny’s computer started up. “But, just tell me, he'll be okay, yeah? I don't need to go hit anyone, do I?”

 

“No,” laughed Isaac with a shake of his head and a slight smile. “No need for injuring anyone.” Isaac nodded a little then and set aside the notes. “I think he'll be okay. It will take time, but... he'll be okay.” Isaac nodded again, resting his elbows on either knee. “Thank you, by the way, for not pressuring him to talk. You're a great friend, y'know.”

 

Danny chuckled softly and smiled, shifting to get more comfortable in his desk chair. “You're a great friend, too. Stiles is lucky to have you there for him.” Both teens smiled, Danny’s a little brighter than Isaac’s at the fact that he got that rosy color to form on the curly-haired teen's face again. “Are you going to stay for dinner?”

 

“I'd like to, but I promised Stiles I’d bring pizza over later. You could... you could always come over, too,” Isaac told Danny with a slightly hesitant smile that grew when Danny nodded with a grin.

 

“Yeah, alright. It's dad's turn to cook anyway, which means it'll be burnt or take out.”

 

 


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stiles talks to Derek more, Isaac opens up to Stiles again, and Stiles has a connecting moment with the sheriff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  

“Are you sure they're here?” Danny questioned, his brow furrowing a little as he pulled up to the Hale house. There were no lights on that he could see, though there were already two cars sitting out front.

 

Isaac nodded from his place in the passenger seat as he said, “Yeah, they're probably just in the back part of the house.” Isaac nodded a little once again as both teens climbed out of the car, Isaac with two large pizza boxes in his arms. “C'mon.” He smiled over at Danny, walking up to the front door, where he balanced the pizzas in one arm so that he could unlock and open the front door.

 

“Is Peter here?” questioned Danny as they both walked into the front hall, Isaac quietly listening to the sounds of the house for a moment.

 

“No.” Isaac had threatened to find a way to kill Peter and have him _stay_ dead if he did not make himself scarce from the house that evening. “They're in the library.”

 

“Oh, it's finished?”

 

Danny smiled as he went with Isaac to the kitchen to drop off the pizzas before they continued toward the library. Isaac paused his steps for a moment when he realized that someone was playing the piano in the library, and he knew that Derek did not play. The curly-haired teen got Danny’s attention, pressing his index finger to his lips in indication for Danny to stay quiet as they neared the library. Danny nodded silently in understanding, and they both stopped in the doorway, looking to see Stiles and Derek sitting at the piano while Stiles played some song that neither of them knew; it sounded both hopeful and sad all at the same time.

 

Stiles did not notice they were no longer alone for a couple more minutes, but when he did, he quickly dropped his hands to his lap while looking over to Derek as he said, “Why didn't you tell me they were here?”

 

“Sorry,” was all Derek offered in reply, and Stiles rolled his eyes before shifting on the bench to look at Danny and Isaac more directly. “Did you bring the pizza?”

 

“Of course,” replied Isaac, flashing a bright smile before tilting his head back toward the hall. “S'in the kitchen.”

 

From the look that Isaac and Derek shared, Danny was pretty sure that the two of them wanted a moment to talk, so he smiled at Stiles and said, “Wanna come help me find the plates?” With a nod, Stiles got up and followed Danny out of the library so that they could get plates from the kitchen, talking about Jackson and how the teen seemed a lot better now after his and Lydia's impromptu vacation that they had just returned from.

 

Isaac let out a breath he did not realize that he was holding once the other two had left and he looked to Derek as he said, “I guess Stiles told you.”

 

“Sort of,” the alpha replied, running a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh of his own as he stood up. “Thank you... for helping him.”

 

The curly-haired teen nodded once, smiling faintly as he crossed his arms over his chest. Of course he was going to do everything he could to help Stiles. Stiles was his friend, and he could not just let the other teen continue to feel _so_ miserable and alone. He just could not do it. Not when they could all help. “I don't know how to deal with this,” Derek admitted after a moment, glancing toward the doorway at the sound of Stiles and Danny laughing and joking around in the kitchen.

 

“Just listen to him,” stated Isaac as he uncrossed his arms, nodding slightly once again as Derek looked from the doorway to him. “Whenever he brings himself to talk, _listen_. Be there for him, _remind_ him that you're there. He needs to know that he's not alone. Call him out when he's faking it again; I know you know when he is.”

 

Derek breathed heavily through his nose but nodded a little. He was about to say something else when Stiles' voice was clearly heard carrying from the kitchen as he called, “You two better hurry up before Danny and I eat all of this!”

 

Rolling his eyes, Derek nodded toward the doorway. “C'mon, let's go before he does it just to spite us,” Derek stated, earning himself a smile from Isaac as they both left the room. The alpha squeezed Isaac’s shoulder as he passed the teen to go over to the fridge and grab sodas for everyone.

 

They ended up forgoing the plates and just took the food into the living room so that they could have the television on as they ate and talked for background noise. Danny could tell as easily as Derek and Isaac that Stiles was having to force himself to smile and laugh, that it was an act to seem as normal as possible. None of them said anything about it, though Isaac did squeeze his wrist gently at one point, which led to Stiles toning it down just a little with a slight smile in the curly-haired teen's direction.

 

Danny asked them some questions about werewolves and the supernatural in general as they ate, still just getting used to the whole idea after having found out a few months prior. It was fairly hard to continue keeping it a secret after they saved him from a rogue omega that nearly attacked him. Stiles sat on the couch with his back to the arm rest, and Derek was sitting next to him so the teen draped both legs over his lap. Isaac also sat on the couch, but on the opposite end, closer to where Danny sat on the chair.

 

It was starting to get late when Derek gently squeezed Stiles' knee and looked to Danny as he said, “There's a guest room you can use if you want to stay.”

 

Both Isaac and Danny seemed slightly surprised at the offer, which Danny took, and a few minutes later, the group of four separated. Stiles and Derek went upstairs to Derek’s room, and the other two went to the guest room on the first floor so Isaac could grab the bedding out of the closet,which he set on the bed after he did. “I've some clothes you can borrow, if you want,” Isaac offered with a slight smile, the gesture growing a little as Danny smiled at him in response.

 

“Yeah, alright,” replied the other lacrosse player, nodding a little. “Wanna go grab those while I start with these sheets? Bring your laptop, too, we can watch another movie unless you're tired.”

 

“No, a movie's fine. I'll be back.” With a nod and another smile, Isaac made his way upstairs to his own bedroom, where he changed and grabbed some clothes for Danny before placing the laptop on top of the clothes. He thought about going to check on Stiles, but the faint murmuring he could not completely make out from Derek’s bedroom made him decide against it. He and Stiles could talk in the morning. After standing there a minute longer, Isaac ran a hand through his hair, and then gathered the clothes and laptop in his arms to carry back downstairs.

 

Once he got to the guest room, Danny was sitting on the made up guest bed, and the teen smiled at him. “About time you got back,” replied Danny with a laugh. “Almost thought you got lost there for a minute.” Isaac rolled his eyes as he walked over to the bed and sat down as well, handing Danny the clothes. “Get the computer set up for a movie while I change. Bathroom's down the hall, right?”

 

Isaac nodded a little as he opened his laptop and hit the power button. “Yeah. Peter tends to leave his shoes in there, so watch your step.” The curly-haired teen smiled a little to himself as Danny left the room to go change and he waited for the computer to warm up. Honestly, he was not completely sure what he was doing, but he liked spending time with Danny. Then again, who didn't? Everybody liked Danny.

 

As the two of them settled down in the guest room to watch some horror movies, laying so that their arms were pressed together and the laptop was balanced on one leg from each of them, Stiles and Derek continued to talk upstairs in Derek’s bedroom. Stiles was wearing a pair of sleep pants that were Derek’s, and just slightly too short for him, along with an over-sized t-shirt that was Isaac’s. The teen also had a hoodie on, to cover his arms, despite the fact that it was warm in Derek’s room. “In the old house, my parents had a bedroom upstairs, a private bath. All the study rooms and the library were upstairs, along with the guest rooms. The kids all had rooms on the first floor,” Derek explained quietly as they sat together on the bed, neither one quite touching the other, though the slightest shift made their arms brush against one another. “Mom liked it better that way, said that it let her and Dad sleep easier in the summer when us kids were up late.”

 

Stiles smiled faintly as he listened to Derek speak, eventually leaning over so that his head was resting on the alpha's shoulder. They continued talking well after Isaac and Danny had fallen asleep, Isaac snuggled in close to Danny’s side with the excuse that he had been scared by one of the scenes in the movie. Honestly, he'd been indifferent, but Danny did not seem to mind in the slightest. Dawn had already come, and the sun was still dimly peeking through the trees, casting an orange glow about Derek’s bedroom when Stiles finally started to talk again.

 

“It's like... a panic attack,” Stiles explained quietly, wetting his lips as he attempted to think of the proper words needed. Derek was sitting on the edge of the bed by that point, while Stiles moved about the room, picking up different books to flip through, if only to have something to do with his hands. “It builds. It doesn't just... hit you all at once, the need to do it. You can feel it, the... _itch_ to feel it again. It gets to the point that you can't breathe, you can't think about anything except for feeling that... _release_. Once you do, everything becomes clearer, and you can breathe. It doesn't hurt the same way anymore, and you just feel... _alive_.”

 

Stiles laughed and ran a hand through his hair before shaking his head, as he said, “But that's almost romanticizing it.” Derek looked up from the pen he was toying with at that moment, looking to where Stiles was staring out the window at the way the branches on the tree moved in the slight wind. “It hurts, and it's _consuming_ , and you want to stop but you don't know how. It gets to be the only thing that lets you function, even when a part of you knows it's destroying you.” Stiles wet his lips again as he looked over to Derek, brow furrowing a little as he tried to focus his thoughts, to make himself say everything he needed to. “It gets to the point where you don't _care_ , and it's terrible and terrifying; but, you don't know what else to do, so you keep on. You hide it because you're ashamed, because you _know_ what you're doing isn't right; but, you're too scared to stop.”

 

Derek set the pen aside as he pushed himself up, and in a few short steps closed the distance between himself and Stiles to pull the teen into a hug. Stiles seemed to sink into the embrace to the point that Derek was the only reason he was still standing. The teen's arms wound around Derek’s waist, clinging tightly to the other man as they stood there in the early morning light. “You're going to be fine, Stiles,” Derek reassured him quietly, closing his eyes with a faint sigh as Stiles' forehead rested against his shoulder. “'M not going anywhere.”

 

Stiles laughed faintly at that, the sound muffled against Derek’s shoulder as he shifted his grip on the man enough to twist his fingers into the material of his shirt. “Maybe you should,” Stiles said tiredly after a moment.

 

“No.”

 

The single word was said firmly and with enough conviction that Stiles did not even bring himself to argue against it. He just nodded and held on tightly as Derek moved him to the bed so that they were both laying down. “Get some sleep, Stiles,” insisted Derek quietly. Stiles did not argue, nor did he respond in any way beyond pressing himself closer to Derek. Neither one moved much or said anything else, and Derek did not allow himself to rest at all until he was sure that Stiles was asleep.

 

Several hours later, Derek woke up to the sounds of Isaac and Danny quietly making a late lunch in the kitchen. Stiles was still asleep next to him, looking so very exhausted and _broken_ that it made Derek inhale sharply through his nose. The man still had no idea what he was doing, and worried about making things worse. He planned on listening to Isaac’s advice, however. The teen beta seemed to know what he was talking about. Carefully, Derek shifted away from Stiles, not wanting to disturb his sleep any, so that he could get up and get dressed. Once he had, Derek made his way downstairs to the kitchen, entering the room as Isaac laughed at the fact that Danny had managed to get pasta sauce on his face. “Oh, hey, Derek,” Danny said as he reached up to wipe the sauce off with his arm before nudging Isaac with his elbow. “We didn't wake you guys, did we?”

 

Derek shook his head, but did not say anything as he walked over to where there was fresh coffee waiting in the coffee pot. Isaac had figured one or both of the other two would wake up shortly; and, coffee was always a good idea in the morning. “Stiles is still asleep,” Derek stated hoarsely as he readied his coffee before taking it over to go sit at the table, running his hand through his hair with a faint sigh.

 

“He'll be fine,” insisted Isaac with a nod, smiling faintly at Derek, though the alpha did not return the gesture.

 

The three of them hung around the kitchen, talking about school and anything but Stiles until after Danny had to leave. Once Stiles woke up and had eaten, the teen announced that he should get home, and Isaac ended up leaving with him after they both changed. Isaac went on out to the Jeep while Stiles lingered in the living room where Derek was. “Thank you,” Stiles said quietly after a long few moments of silence had passed, “for, uh... for listening to me.” Stiles nodded a little before he quickly pressed a kiss to Derek’s cheek and then rushed out of the house to where Isaac was waiting.

 

Neither teen said a word until they were out on the highway, headed back toward town so that they could get back to the Stilinski home. “How did you quit?” Stiles asked quietly after tightening his grip on the steering wheel slightly. He swallowed thickly but did not take his eyes away from the road.

 

“I made a friend,” Isaac explained with a soft sigh and a nod, glancing over at Stiles before he smiled a little. “Reminds me a lot of you, actually. He, uh, he could tell that something was wrong, and he confronted me one day. Once he saw... well, you know, he promised that he wouldn't let me feel that bad again. It was the hardest thing I've ever done; stopping, I mean. It was for the best, though.”

 

“Do you ever still want to?”

 

Isaac chewed on his lower lip, trying to think of the best way to answer Stiles' question. It was not an easy one, and he knew that his answer was different than what someone else might answer. “Yes,” he finally said, his voice soft but completely honest and open. “When things get bad, I still think about it. I even go through the motions at the worst; but, I never even try to go through with it, and not just because I’ll heal.” Isaac shook his head a little, continuing to watch Stiles. “When it gets to that point, that's when I talk to someone; I talk to you, talk to Derek... talk to anyone who will listen. It doesn't make it go away; but, it makes things easier.”

 

Stiles took a deep breath and nodded as he turned into the driveway outside of his house. “I really don't know if I can do this,” Stiles admitted in a small voice as he parked the car next to his father's cruiser. “I almost... last night. I would've waken up Derek if I moved, though, so I just... stayed there.”

 

The curly-haired teen smiled slightly over at his friend, reaching over to gently squeeze Stiles' arm. “It's a start, though. All you need is something small, until you don't need it anymore.”

 

“That's the difference, isn't it?” Stiles questioned while he turned off the car before looking over at Isaac again. “Not to completely be rid of the want but the _need_. That's how you do it.”

 

“That's how I do it, yes. Others may have another way, and maybe you'll find a way to get rid of the want as well. It's the most basic start, though, and I’ll be here for you throughout. You'll be sick of my face when you can do it on your own.”

 

Stiles hummed a little in thought before reaching over to ruffle Isaac’s hair. “Never. C'mon, let's get inside. 'M sure Dad's wondering what's taking so long.”

 

With matching smiles, the teens got out of Stiles' Jeep and made their way inside so that they could help John make dinner before all three of them sat around the kitchen table, talking about anything except for Stiles' therapy and recovery. John and Stiles needed to talk more, as soon as they could; but, for the time being, none of them wanted to break the good spell. Stiles was actually smiling that evening, and it was more than any of them could ask for.

 

Isaac slept in the guest room that night, and he was the first to realize that Stiles was having some sort of a nightmare, but John got in there to comfort his son before Isaac could. Isaac could not hear Stiles explaining to his father what the dream was about. All he could hear over the fan in the other teen's room was the faint, indistinguishable mumble of Stiles followed by the soothing tone of John Stilinski's voice. Isaac drifted back off to sleep to the sounds of them talking quietly in the other room, knowing that John would get him if help was needed.

 

“I'm sorry,” Stiles mumbled for the third time in five minutes, resting his head on his dad's shoulder while the man reached up with one arm to run a hand through his hair in a soothing manner, something that his mother used to do when he was ill before she passed. “She would hate me, wouldn't she?”

 

“No, Stiles. Don't ever think that,” replied John with a sigh as he pressed a kiss to the top of his son's head. “Your mother would have been _so_ proud of you, of everything you've done. She would have seen what I didn't a lot sooner.”

 

“Dad, it's not your fault.” Stiles shook his head a little, sniffling slightly as he reached up with one hand to rub at his eyes. “You're amazing, and I don't tell you that enough. I'm sorry I’m always in the way and that I keep messing up.”

 

“Don't even, Stiles. You're my son, and I love you. Period.” John sighed softly, continuing to run his hand through Stiles' hair, slowly feeling the teen relax next to him, though Stiles offered no response other than a mumbled “love you, too”. “Rest, Stiles. I’ll stay here with you until you fall asleep.” Stiles smiled faintly at that, quietly thanking the man next to him as he closed his eyes. It was with his father's fingers shifting through his hair that Stiles slowly fell back into a deep sleep.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles attempts to stay home alone for a while; and, Isaac may or may not have a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few weeks passed in much the same way. Thursday afternoon, Stiles would have a one-on-one session with Dr. Koln, and Friday afternoon he would go to the group session. Stiles and Isaac spent much of their time together, switching between the Stilinski and Hale houses to sleep. Sometimes, Scott would join them. However, he was still unsure how to deal with the information he had recently learned about his best friend. Isaac had told him not to treat Stiles any different; but, it was difficult to not when every five minutes, Scott wanted to ask him what was wrong. “Are you sure?” Isaac asked as he worried at his lower lip, watching as Stiles moved around the kitchen, washing some of the dishes. They were alone in the Stilinski house that evening, after another group session in which Stiles said nothing, only sat there and listened to the others.

 

Isaac had been invited to go to the movies with Danny and some of the other teen's friends, and if he went, it meant that Stiles would be _alone_ for the evening, something he had not been since Isaac had told his father about his struggles. Stiles felt like it would be a good thing. He needed a break, some time alone to think. Plus, how would he ever learn to do things on his own if someone was _constantly_ there? “Yes, I’m sure,” replied Stiles, smiling over at Isaac. “Go have fun. I’ll just... I’ll call Scott or Derek if I need someone here.”

 

“If you need me, j--”

 

“I'll call one of them, Isaac, I promise. Go have fun with Danny.” Stiles nudged the curly-haired teen with a smirk, focusing his attention on the dishes he was hand washing. “I'm not interrupting your date.”

 

“It's not a date.” Isaac shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, making it even more unruly than it already was. “We're just hanging out.”

 

“Sure, okay. It's not a date. Then why are you nervous?”

 

Isaac smirked and tossed a dry washcloth at Stiles, who flinched away from it as they both chuckled. “Shut up.”

 

The two of them continued to talk for a long few minutes until Isaac finally left to go meet up with Danny, and Stiles let out a heavy breath of relief. He then ran a hand through his hair as he looked around at the empty house around him. It was odd, having so much time to himself after weeks of barely having a moment alone. Stiles was not sure that he enjoyed it. It gave him a lot of time to think, and a faint frown tugged on his lips. Maybe he should call Derek over there. Stiles worried at his lower lip as he continued working on washing the dishes.

 

He only did that for a few more minutes before he walked over to the radio to turn on some music so that the house would not be so quiet. Stiles was about half-way through the dishes when he stopped to take a deep breath, resting his hands on the sink counter, closing his eyes for a moment as the sound of rain hitting the windows reached his ears. His grip on the counter tightened as the weight in his chest slowly started to grow, feeling more and more _alone_ as every second passed.

 

Letting out a slightly shaky breath, the teen started to go through the different drawers in the kitchen, but all the knives were still missing. Anything sharp was gone, and that led Stiles to continue searching throughout the house until he ended up on the floor of his father's bedroom, where he found a package of razor blades hidden in one of the drawers. He sat there with one of the blades in his shaking hand for what felt like hours, but was probably no more than a few seconds.

 

It was the sound of thunder crashing that shook the teen from his thoughts and Stiles quickly dropped the blade in his hand onto the floor. He then pushed himself up off the floor and grabbed the nearest phone so that he could dial Derek’s number. It took him several tries to get the number correct due to how much his hands were shaking. “Derek?” Stiles said quietly after the alpha picked up the call, slowly sitting down against the wall in the hall near the top of the stairs.

 

“Stiles? What is it? Are you okay?” questioned the other man, brow furrowing as he walked toward the picture window there in the library of the Hale house.

 

“Y-yeah, no, I’m fine.” The words got stuck in Stiles' throat, and the teen laughed a little as he tipped his head back to rest against the wall fully, wetting his lips. “I'll be fine. I just... need someone to talk to. Stay on the line with me?”

 

Derek nodded, though Stiles could not see, and pulled the phone away from his ear, switching it to speaker so that he could lay it down on the table and continue working on the plans for the final room in the house. “What's going on, Stiles?”

 

The teen wet his lips as he closed his eyes, continuing to keep his head back against the wall. “Isaac’s on a date with Danny,” Stiles explained, clearing his throat a little, “and Dad's at work. I just... s'too quiet here. I, uhm... I don't wanna do anything stupid.”

 

Stiles sighed inaudibly, worrying at his lower lip as he had silence in response. He was sure that Derek was still there, calculating what exactly to say; and, he was correct in his assumption. Derek stood next to the table, his head hung slightly as he took a deep breath before he turned off the speaker and picked up the phone again. “Stiles. I’m coming over.”

 

“You don't have to do that,” replied Stiles, shaking his head as he ran his fingers through his hair again. “Just don't hang up.”

 

“I'm coming over. Give me ten minutes.”

 

Stiles sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a moment before looking toward the top of the stairs, nodding though no one was around to see. “Alright.”

 

Though Stiles knew that Derek was on his way over, neither one of them hung up the phone and they continued to talk, mostly about the weather, as Derek drove over to the Stilinski house. Derek only hung up the phone once he was in the hall at the top of the stairs with Stiles, and he sat down against the wall next to the teen. “I almost...” Stiles half-way admitted in a tone so quiet that Derek almost missed it under the sound of the rain outside.

 

He nodded a little, however, understanding what Stiles was trying to tell him. He then took the teen's hand in his own, linking their fingers together with a gentle squeeze. “But you didn't,” he replied as Stiles rested his head on his shoulder.

 

“I'm sorry.” Stiles' words were mumbled, muffled even more by the way he turned his head to almost hide his face against the top of Derek’s shoulder.

 

“You've nothing to apologize for.” Derek shook his head a little, gently squeezing Stiles' hand once again while brushing his thumb against the skin along the back of it.

 

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut with a bitter-sounding laugh as he turned his head forward once again. “If you say so.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Isaac was having a lot of fun with Danny, though neither one of them paid much attention to the movie that was playing on the screen. They spent more time talking quietly, sitting huddled close to one another in one corner of the room, than anything. Isaac checked his phone every few minutes, just in case Stiles tried to call him, though he knew that Derek or Scott would easily be there for the other teen if he needed someone. Isaac was just worried. He knew how terrible it was to be where Stiles was. You were not quite sure you could ever be okay, but you knew you had to try. There was the wonder of everything being worth it and the constant knowledge that a single action could destroy all doubt and make things so much easier. “Is he doing any better?” Danny asked quietly, knowing that Stiles was the reason that Isaac kept checking his phone. He was also very aware of the fact that Isaac would probably not have been there that evening if it were not for Stiles talking the curly-haired teen into it.

 

The blue-eyed teen lifted his shoulders in a shrug, resting his head on the back of his seat while lolling it to the side enough to actually look at Danny. “I'd like to think so, but... it's not really that simple,” replied Isaac with a slight shake of his head before wetting his lips. “It's... complicated. I don't think he'll really be okay for a long time.” Isaac knew that he had not been. It took more than a few weeks and a couple of therapy sessions for him to even begin to think that maybe he really would be okay. Until Stiles believed it, nothing would work.

 

Both their attentions were drawn away from the conversation and to the movie screen in front of them when there was a loud explosion that practically shook the entire room. They both laughed softly as the initial moment of shock passed, and Isaac smiled sheepishly over at Danny. “Guess that's what we get for not paying attention,” he stated with another soft laugh.

 

“Mm... worth it,” replied Danny with a nod and a slight smirk that grew when he could faintly make out the red tint that colored the other teen's face. He definitely enjoyed whenever he could get that reaction from Isaac. “Wanna go ahead and go get food? I’ve no idea what's going on.”

 

“We could, uh, do that, yeah. What about the others?”

 

Danny shrugged, saying something about them being fine as he took Isaac’s hand in his own and stood up. The curly-haired boy easily followed after, smiling as they wordlessly walked out of the theater. “So, where do you want to go?” Danny asked Isaac with a smile once they finally got outside, tugging the other teen farther away from the theater.

 

“Anything but pizza.” Isaac pulled a slight face as he spoke before shaking his head with a laugh. “S'good, but with as little as Stiles or John actually cook, 've had a lot of pizza lately.”

 

“Alright, then. Anything but pizza, it is.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles and Derek moved back to the kitchen at Stiles' request, so that he could finish the dishes he had not done. It gave him an excuse to do something besides sit there. Derek leaned against the kitchen table, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the teen. Neither one of them said anything. Derek could hear Stiles' heart rate faltering, his breath catching as he seemed to struggle with his thoughts again. Derek quietly pushed himself away and walked over to Stiles, uncrossing his arms to wrap both of them around the slighter man's waist, drawing him close to his chest. “Breathe, Stiles,” Derek said softly, ducking his head so that his lips brushed against Stiles' shoulder when he spoke.

 

“I'm sorry,” replied the teen with a soft, slightly broken laugh. “Fuck, this is stupid. I can't even be alone for more than a few minutes without...”

 

“You'll get there.” Derek nodded a little before he removed his arms from around Stiles' waist, taking one of the teen's hands in his own. “Let's go sit on the couch.”

 

“The dishes...”  
  


“Can wait.”

 

Stiles sighed softly but followed Derek into the living room. Once the alpha sat down on the couch, Stiles climbed onto it to lay out, resting his head on Derek’s lap without even asking. Derek smiled lightly as he idly toyed with Stiles' hair. Stiles sighed and closed his eyes, mumbling another soft apology before he quietly said, “`M always tired lately.”

 

The teen was not sure why he felt so drained. It was not like he was not sleeping; he was. Sure, he had bad dreams some of the time, but more often than not he slept rather well throughout the night. “You are going through a lot,” Derek stated, making Stiles open both eyes to look up at him. “It's probably tied to that.”

 

“Yeah.” Stiles nodded a little, absentmindedly wetting his lips before sighing inaudibly as he closed his eyes once again. “Keep messing with my hair like that, and I’ll fall asleep on you.”

 

Derek hummed a little in response, but otherwise did not say anything. He wished there was a way to just make all of Stiles' problems disappear, but knew it was not that simple. Stiles would be okay, he reminded himself. It would just take time. Isaac told him that it had taken several months before he had not relied on his friend so much. Stiles would get back to being able to be alone without having to worry about being consumed by his thoughts. Isaac seemed sure in the fact that Stiles would be okay again; and, Derek, well he had to trust Isaac. “Everyone's coming over for dinner tomorrow,” Derek told Stiles quietly after a few minutes of them just listening to the rain as Derek continued to toy with Stiles' hair.

 

“Yeah? Erica's not cooking, is she?” Stiles' lips quirked up into a slight smirk as he spoke, chuckling a little when Derek gently squeezed his arm in response.

 

“No. I would rather her not burn everything,” replied Derek with a slight shake of his head. “You can invite your dad if you want.”

 

“Think he could handle...” Stiles' voice trailed off into a yawn, and he reached up to grab Derek’s wrist, moving the man's hand away from his hair before linking their fingers together, resting their hands on his chest. “Handle being surrounded by everyone? He's not exactly spent time with any of you since finding out.”

 

Derek chuckled a little, gently squeezing Stiles' hand. “Only one way to find out.”

 

Stiles laughed softly, smiling a little as he told Derek that he would ask his dad about going. He was not sure that his dad would agree to go; but, it was worth asking, anyway.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Dude!” Danny exclaimed with a laugh when Isaac stole a french fry off of his plate. “Foul. Totally not cool.”

 

Isaac just smiled with a roll of his shoulder in a shrug, chuckling as Danny narrowed his eyes at him. “Well, you weren't touching them,” the curly-haired teen stated, grinning over at the teen sitting next to him in one of the booths at a local diner.

 

“I was getting to it, gosh.” Danny nudged Isaac with his elbow, both teens smiling as they continued to joke and talk, enjoying the time alone. It seemed that most of the time they spent together, they were with friends or at Danny’s place, so his little sister was lingering around. “I think she's got a crush on you,” Danny informed Isaac with a smirk before he took a drink of his soda.

 

The blue-eyed teen laughed awkwardly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck as he ducked his head a little, hoping to hide the fact that his face was warmer than usual, which meant it was probably at least slightly pink. “Yeah, well, I think she's out of luck there. I kinda like someone else; taller, definitely more my type.”

 

“Oh, yeah? So, I need to fight said person for your affections?”

 

Both of the teens smiled as Isaac shook his head a little. “They say the first sign of going mad is arguing with yourself.”

 

“Anything else I can get you boys?” their waitress said as she walked up to their table, making both of them jump a little. Isaac silently cursed himself for having let someone sneak up on him like that. He had been putting way too much focus on Danny.

 

Isaac shook his head and Danny smiled charmingly at her as he said, “No, thank you. We're good.”

 

The two of them continued to sit there talking for several hours before they finally left. Danny drove Isaac over to the Stilinski house and even walked with him up to the door. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Danny said with a smile. Isaac nodded and started to say good-bye, but Danny cut him off with a light, chaste kiss that made him smile and laugh softly. “Night, Isaac.”

 

“Yeah...” the slightly taller teen said, unable to make himself form any other words. He waited until Danny actually left before he went inside.

 

It was dark in the house, but at least it had stopped raining. Isaac stopped in the living room, easily able to see Derek and Stiles there, despite the dark. Stiles was asleep and Derek had his eyes closed, head resting on the back of the couch. Without saying anything, Isaac went over to the couch and lifted Stiles' legs so that he could sit as well before placing them in his lap. Stiles shifted with a slightly annoyed sigh, brow furrowing, but he did not wake up. “He just fell asleep,” Derek said quietly without opening his eyes.

 

Isaac nodded a little, resting his head on the back of the couch as well. “He called you?” questioned the teen just as quietly, neither one wanting to wake up Stiles. Derek’s silent nod was enough of an answer for Isaac, and the two of them fell into silence, slowly following Stiles into sleep.


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John walks in to find Stiles on the couch with Isaac and _Derek Hale_ , and Stiles gets to spend some time with Scott.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No graphic this time, because I'm being lazy. I may put one up later. Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed this story so far! I think we may be wrapping up soon; but, there will probably be a sequel!

When John Stilinski got home that evening, the house was dark and still, making the sheriff believe that his son, and probably Isaac, were asleep upstairs. However, when he turned on the hall light so that he could see to put his things up, John found that Stiles was asleep on the couch, and he was not alone. Both Isaac and Derek Hale were with him. Derek and Stiles' held hands still, their joined fingers continuing to rest on Stiles' chest; and, Isaac’s arms were draped over Stiles' legs, which remained over his lap. John sighed softly, shaking his head a little, though he was glad that none of them woke up.

 

He was not particularly fond of the idea of his son spending time with Derek Hale for many reasons. However, it was very clear to him that Stiles meant a lot to the young man, and was good to him; it was the same in reverse. As long as Stiles remained happy and healthy, he would keep his thoughts to himself. After all, the age difference between them was no greater than the one that had been between himself and Stiles' mother.

 

John turned the light back off as he started upstairs, leaving the teens and Derek where they were. The man was completely lost as to what to do anymore. His only son was more upset than he could have ever imagined, and he only knew because _Isaac_ told him. No matter what Stiles said, he would never forgive himself for how bad he had let things get. Feeling just completely exhausted, John collapsed onto his bed without even changing, and he quickly fell asleep.

 

The following morning, John woke up to the sounds of soft talking, and someone cooking in the kitchen. John lay in bed for a few more minutes before he got up and changed into jeans and a t-shirt for his day off. When he made it downstairs to the kitchen, he found Stiles and Derek working on a breakfast of pancakes and scrambled eggs. John was fairly sure there was more flour in Derek’s hair than the pancakes, and he had no doubts his son was behind that. “Morning, Dad,” Stiles said cheerfully without looking away from the pancakes that were in the pan.

 

“Morning,” replied John as he went over to the coffee pot to make himself a cup. “You're in a good mood. Sleep well?”

 

“Yeah, actually.” Stiles sounded surprised by that fact, though he smiled before asking Derek to grab him a plate so they could put finished pancakes on it.

 

Maybe John should have read into it more the fact that Derek did not even need ask where the plates were. He simply nodded and moved to grab one out of the cabinet, placing it on the counter near the stove top so that Stiles could move the finished pancakes. “Isaac still asleep?”

 

“Nope,” replied the curly-haired teen as he came into the kitchen with a yawn, showing signs of having just woken up.

 

Breakfast was all smiles (faint ones, in Derek’s case, that were mostly directed at Stiles) and light-hearted conversation after that. The three of them continued sitting around the table, talking until Isaac glanced over toward the doorway of the kitchen. “Scott's here,” he stated, smiling a little.

 

Stiles smiled as well before saying, “We're in the kitchen, Scott, come on in.”

 

He knew that his best friend would hear him, and was proved right when a few moments later, Scott came into the room. “Hey, guys,” Scott said with a wave as he walked over to the table to steal Stiles' glass of milk, making the other boy narrow his eyes in response. “Was coming over to see if you wanted to hang at mine today. Didn't realize you had company already.”

 

“Nah, not already,” replied Stiles with a shake of his head, stealing his drink back from the other teen. “Derek and Isaac fell asleep here last night.”

 

“I should probably go, actually,” Derek stated as he got up, carrying his and Isaac’s empty plates over to the sink. “Need to make sure Peter didn't take to redecorating one of the rooms.”

 

The three teens pulled a face at that, and John lifted a brow but shook his head a little as he decided he probably did not want to know. “I'll go with you,” Isaac replied, grabbing their glasses and silverware off the table to take to the sink as well.

 

Good-byes were then shared before the two of them left, and afterward, it took John a couple minutes to convince Stiles to go on over to Scott's, that he would be fine spending the day by himself. There were things around the house he needed to get done, anyway. That was how, several minutes later, the two teens found themselves on the couch in Scott's living room, putting in the first _Star Wars_ prequel, so that Scott could watch them from the beginning. “I still can't believe you've never seen any of these,” Stiles said incredulously as he shook his head. The prequels were not his favorite, but they gave important back story; so, he figured Scott should see them as well.

 

“Well, we've finally got the time now,” replied Scott with a laugh before eating a piece of popcorn from the bowl situated between them. He then threw a piece at Stiles and smirked. “Now, will you stop bugging me about them?”

 

“Of course not. Trivia and all that jazz still needs to be shared.” Stiles nodded resolutely with a nod and a smirk before resting his head on the back of the couch.

 

Both teens watched in silence for another few minutes before Scott said, “`M glad you came over. S'been a while since we've done something like this.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles said with a soft sigh, nodding a little before he looked over at Scott and smiled. “We've both been so busy with... well, everything.”

 

“We should make a habit out of it. Once a month or something; just you and me.”

 

Stiles smiled brightly at his best friend and nodded as he sat up a little straighter. “Yeah, alright. That sounds awesome.”

 

Scott returned the smile before reaching over to pull Stiles into a one-armed hug, neither one of them minding the bowl of popcorn between them, which ended up knocking it over. They'd deal with it later. For the time being, Stiles rested his head on Scott's shoulder, focusing on the movie in front of them once again while enjoying being able to spend some quality time with the teen that was practically his brother.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Scott had warned Melissa that Stiles would most likely be staying the night, and sure enough, when she got home after her shift that evening, both teens were already changed into some sleep clothes of Scott's as they made dinner for three in the kitchen. “Maybe you should come 'round more often, if you can get Scott to help cook,” Melissa commented with an amused smirk. She was glad to see Stiles over again, having heard from Scott everything that was going on with the other teen. Stiles may have not actually been her son, but he was as good as. It pained her just like everyone else to learn what all the usually smiling, happy teen was going through. She also knew that Scott felt so _guilty_ for not realizing something was wrong with his best friend.

 

“Hi, Melissa,” replied Stiles with a laugh, smiling at her with an expression more honest than she had seen from the boy in years. “I'll do that if you expand his cooking knowledge past macaroni and cheese.”

 

“Hey! I make _amazing_ mac and cheese,” Scott said with a huff, throwing a dish towel at Stiles, who ducked with a laugh.

 

It warmed Melissa’s heart to see the teens joking and laughing, smiling in a way neither of them had in a while. Things were not easy for either of them, she knew; it made the good times even more special in her opinion. She hummed softly, as if she was thinking about it before nodding with a smirk. “I'll see what I can do.”

 

“Mom! Don't gang up on me, that's not cool.”

 

Both Melissa and Stiles laughed at that one, and Scott just groaned, running a hand over his face. Dinner that evening was nice, full of talking and laughter that had not filled the house in way too long. Melissa had missed it more than she realized. She was so used to it just being her, or just being her and Scott; it was usually so quiet. Laughter and life filling the house, even just one person more, was a very good thing.

 

Soon enough, Melissa retired upstairs to take a shower and then get some sleep. She would be back at the hospital early the next morning. Stiles and Scott played video games downstairs for a while longer before they, too, went upstairs. Once in Scott's room, they sprawled out on the bed. “So, Derek stayed over last night?” Scott questioned Stiles with a slight smile, making his friend laugh a little before nodding.

 

“Uh, yeah. I, uhm... well, Isaac was on a date with Danny,” Stiles explained with a nod, toying with the shirt cuffs of either sleeve as he spoke. “I almost... Anyway, I called Derek to have someone to talk to, and he ended up coming over. We were talking on the couch, and I guess I fell asleep 'cause the next thing I know, it's morning and Derek’s still there and Isaac’s with us.”

 

“Why did you almost...?” Scott asked softly as he turned to lay on his side so that he could look at his best friend easier, brow furrowing a little.

 

Stiles wet his lips absentmindedly before shrugging slightly. “I guess, I dunno. Being alone, I had... a lot of time to think about, well, everything. It just got to be too much. I... I don't like being alone. I need to learn how to be, though. I mean, I can't just... call up someone every time I spend twenty minutes alone.”

 

“You're going to be okay, Stiles,” Scott said awkwardly, reaching over to gently squeeze his friend's arm. He honestly had no idea what he was supposed to do or say, what was right or wrong. Nothing seemed like a good thing to say, but he still wanted to be there for his friend, even if he did not fully understand.

 

“Yeah,” he replied, laughing breathily as he closed his eyes for a moment. “S'just... difficult. I wish it was easy.”

 

“Easy or not, you've got us.” Scott nodded with a grin, nudging Stiles with his elbow before turning to lay down on his back once again. “Like it or not, you're stuck with us for good, buddy.”

 

Both teens chuckled softly at that, and Stiles smiled fondly, knowing well that he was not alone, no matter how he may feel it at times. The pack was there, even if only Isaac _really_ understood what it was he was going through. The rest of them were still willing to be there and support him; and that, well, that meant a lot more than Stiles could say. “Thanks,” Stiles said quietly after a few moments of companionable silence.

 

“For what?” Scott's brow furrowed as he looked over at Stiles, trying to figure out just what his friend was thanking him for.

 

Stiles lifted a shoulder in a shrug as he said, “For being my friend; for being my brother.”

 

Scott grinned brightly at that, nodding a little in response. “Not like I’m giving you much say in the matter. You're stuck with me, as I’ve said.”

 

“S'not the worst fate a guy could have.” Stiles shook his head with a soft laugh before closing his eyes with a faint sigh. “D'you think Isaac’s right? Can this get easier?”

 

“I don't... I really don't know.” Scott's answer was completely honest, as he honestly had no idea what to tell his best friend. He had no ideas on how any of it worked or why it happened or how to stop it. He just knew that Stiles needed his friends to just be there. “I think so. I mean, it got easier for him, didn't it?”

 

Stiles nodded a little, worrying at his lower lip. “Yeah, yeah it did. He told you about that?”

 

Scott nodded with a sad smile, reaching up to run his hand through his hair with a heavy exhale. “Yeah, just a couple days ago. We were talking about the whole group therapy sessions, and he mentioned how he really knew what you were going through.”

 

“I hate that he ever felt this terrible. It... makes me wanna hit someone.”

 

Scott could not hold his laughter back with that one and he smiled slightly over at Stiles. “Believe me, you're not the only one. I know Derek wants to personally visit anyone who has made you feel like that. He's not _said_ anything, but you can tell. He's worried about you. We all are.”

 

Stiles closed his eyes and sighed softly, nodding before he looked back over to Scott. “I'll... I’ll be okay. S'just... gonna take time. I just need some time.”


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stiles panics, and maybe, finally starts to truly understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, darlings, this is the final chapter of this story. However, there will be another story in this series. Maybe a few more. It just depends on things. Thank you all for your support so far, and I hope you enjoy the conclusion to this part.

Winter break was days away. The formal had passed. Isaac had gone with Danny due to Stiles' urging that it was fine. Stiles had stayed home watching horror films with his dad and Derek. Finals were almost over, and Stiles found himself in the school library during lunch, cramming for his chemistry final that afternoon. He knew it would be difficult, plus Harris' dislike for him meant he was probably going to fail. Stiles was nearly to the point that he was ready to rip his hair out.

 

He forced himself to take a deep, shaky breath. He was fine. He would be fine. There was nothing wrong. He repeated the words over and over in his head. Maybe he would start to believe it if he thought it enough. Stiles gripped the edge of the table so hard that he was _sure_ he was going to break it, even without super-strength. Stiles felt he was struggling to breathe and stay calm; and, were those tears? Great, just what he needed; a breakdown in the middle of school.

 

Stiles guessed that he should have considered himself lucky that no one around seemed to notice. Stiles pressed a hand to his mouth to muffle the broken sob that wracked his entire body. How could he be that worked up over a stupid test? Then again, he remembered Isaac talking about when he first really started to get better, to realize everything he had done, he'd had several breakdowns over nothing, and he had even relapsed a couple times, which only made it worse.

 

“Stiles?” he heard someone say off to his left, but he could not bring himself to look and see who it was, too far gone to really recognize the voice. “Whoa, Stiles. Breathe, dude.” And then suddenly, Danny was at his side, quickly leading him out of the library and to one of the picnic tables outside. “Stiles, breathe. You're okay. Just breathe, dude. I’ve got you.”

 

Stiles nodded a few times, not realizing that he was squeezing Danny’s hand hard enough for the fingers to turn purple. Danny winced but did not pull away, using his other hand to soothing rub the other teen's back, coaching him through breathing softly like he had seen Isaac do before. Only once Stiles was breathing steadily, though still shakily, did Danny squeeze stile's hand gently, making Stiles loosen his grip to no longer painful levels without letting go. “You okay?” Danny asked with a cautious smile.

 

Stiles nodded, reaching up with his free hand to wipe the unwanted tears off of his face with a scowl, feeling even more stupid the longer he sat there. “Y-yeah,” Stiles replied slowly, nodding his head again while absently wetting his lips. “I-I think I want to leave, though.”

 

Danny nodded, looking toward the school before saying, “I'll drive you.”

 

“The final...” Stiles said softly, but Danny shrugged.

 

“We'll pass the class, final or not.” Danny smiled at Stiles as he stood up, finally letting go of Stiles' hand. “C'mon, Stilinski, let's get out of here.”

 

Stiles idly wet his lips once again, looking between the school and Danny a few times before finally getting up. He then followed Danny to the other teen's car, trying to ignore the way that his hands were shaking. Danny sent a quick text to Isaac, letting him know that he was taking Stiles away from the school but that the other teen would be okay. “Where do you want to go, Stiles?” Danny asked as he pulled out of the parking lot onto the main road.

 

“Anywhere but here,” mumbled Stiles as he rested his head against the window.

 

The two of them ended up getting some food from McDonalds, milkshakes included, before going to the city park to eat while enjoying the open air. Danny figured the sunlight and warm breeze would be good for the other teen.

 

' _What happened? :|_ ' Isaac texted in response, making Danny sigh inaudibly.

 

' _Stiles had a panic attack in the library._ ' Danny quickly responded to the text before taking a drink of his strawberry milkshake, returning his focus to the boy sitting at the table with him on the other side. “Feeling any better?” he asked Stiles after a moment.

 

“Yeah, actually,” replied Stiles with a small smile, poking at his chocolate milkshake with his spoon. “Thank. You didn't have to do this.”

 

Danny lifted his shoulders in a shrug, flashing Stiles the friendly smile that he was known for. “Yeah, well, I wasn't going to let you sit there and suffer.”

 

The teen smiled slightly as he let go of the spoon to idly toy with the cuff of the sleeve to the hoodie he wore, the one that he had stolen from Derek. “I don't know why that happened.”

 

“Stress,” Danny replied, nodding a little before reaching over to rest his hand on top of Stiles' stilling the thoughtless actions of his fingers with a gentle squeeze. “I know things have been hard for you lately, but you'll get through whatever it is.”

 

Stiles let out a breath he did not even realize he was holding when the other teen's words made him aware that Danny still did not _really_ know what was going on. He had thought that Isaac had told him. “Yeah, I... S'a lot going on. I’m... better, but not okay. I don't know if I _can_ be okay.”

 

He was not sure why he was being so honest with Danny. They were not close by any means; but, he would rather Danny know the truth than the rest of the pack. He could not handle the looks of pity he could all but see on the others' faces that he did not believe Danny would give, if he knew the full story of what was going on. “Hey, I’m sure you will be,” Danny replied, squeezing Stiles' hand again as his own continued to rest where it was in a friendly, comforting gesture. “You're too stubborn to not.”

 

Stiles laughed a little at that one before throwing a fry at Danny, making him flinch and pull away with a laugh and a grin. “Thanks, really. This was... Thanks.”

 

Several hours later, Stiles found himself going into his house with Danny close behind. When they got into the living room, Stiles stopped walking as he saw Lydia, Jackson, Boyd, Erica, Isaac, Scott, Allison, Derek, and his father all situated around the living room. They were all gathered on a mass of pillows and blankets in front of the couch facing the television with food and drinks on the coffee table that was pushed aside but still nearby. There was just enough room in the mass of people for Stiles and Danny to find places. Stiles rose his brow at his father, making the sheriff shrug as if he had no idea how he ended up on the floor with all those teenagers and Derek; and, in reality, he really had no idea how he ended up there. Lydia Martin had come into his house and started going on about closeness and comfort and feeling safe, and the next thing he knew, there was a perfect place for watching movies surrounded by those closest to you. The only person missing was Melissa, who was at work or she would have been there.

 

Stiles slowly smiled, though, and he made his way to the spot he wanted, the one directly between his father and Derek. His feet somehow ended up draped over Isaac’s legs while the curly-haired teen leaned against Danny, who messed with his hair through most of the movies they watched. Sometime throughout the time that the movie marathon went on, Stiles ended up closer to Derek than anyone else, with the alpha's arm around his waist, hand gently gripping onto his hip while holding him close. Stiles fell asleep with his head on Derek’s shoulder, and knew nothing else until a very lard alarm went off the following morning. It was the best night's sleep he'd had in _months_. His friends, he decided as they all slowly moved around the house to make breakfast, were awesome.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“ _But I'm the only one who'll walk across the fire for you. I'm the only one who'll drown in my desire for you. It's only fear that makes you run, the demons that you're hiding from. When all your promises are gone, I'm the only one_...” Stiles sang along with the radio in the corner as he finished up his last essay, one he would turn in the following morning before getting his schedule for the next semester and getting holed up in some classroom to watch a ridiculous movie while they filled the required hours of schooling just by being there. It was stupid, really; but, Stiles did not complain... too much.

 

His dad was downstairs, working on dinner while chatting with Melissa, who had stopped by with some excuse that Stiles had rolled his eyes at and smiled before excusing himself to his room. Stiles continued humming along to the song, tapping his pen on the desk before he jumped with a gasp as he realized someone was in his doorway that had not been there seconds before. “Jesus, Derek,” Stiles said with a heavy sigh, settling back down in his desk chair once his heart started to return to a normal rate. “Whoa, wait.” The teen's brow furrowed a little as he twisted around to look over at the window that was opposite from where Derek stood. “Did you use the _front door_?”

 

Derek sighed and rolled his eyes before jerking his head back toward the hallway. “C'mon,” he said, making Stiles' brow lift a little in confusion.

 

“C'mon where?” he replied, though he did get up, grabbing the hoodie he had stolen from Derek off his bed as he passed, following Derek outside.

 

“Don't be too late!” John called after them, which only confused Stiles even more.

 

Derek did not answer any of his questions, though, and after a few minutes Stiles realized that. He huffed and crossed his arms, sinking down low in his seat while ignoring Derek’s eye roll in response. “You could just tell me where we're going,” Stiles said with a groan, watching the trees fly past the car. Of course, at the same time, he was not surprised at all. Derek was not a man of many words, though he was not as quiet as others tended to think. He was a bigger fan of _showing_ rather than telling, though. It was something that Stiles had learned throughout the time that they had been spending together.

 

“Oh,” he breathed after a moment, sitting up straight while Derek pulled the car into one of the parking areas in the Preserve. “Full moon tonight. Why aren't you with...?”

 

Stiles' question died off when Derek put the car in park and got out without a word after turning off the engine. The teen sat there in silent shock for a moment before following after. Several minutes and many ignored questions later, Stiles found himself standing in a clearing on top of a hill with Derek. Derek sat down before gesturing for Stiles to do the same. The teen's brow rose in confusion before he sighed and walked over to do just that. To Derek’s surprise, however, Stiles sat in front of him, making him shift his legs out to the side enough for Stiles to lean back against his chest. Stiles mumbled something about at least being comfortable if he was going to be dragged out to the middle of nowhere and Derek laughed a little, rolling his eyes before resting his hands on Stiles' sides. “Are you going to tell me what we're doing out here, now?” Stiles questioned, resting his head back on Derek’s shoulder. It should have been much more awkward than it was to be sitting there like that; but, Derek guessed that there weren't many boundaries they had not crossed with one another by that point.

 

“After I learned to control the shift,” Derek explained quietly after a few long moments of silence, looking up at the full moon that was rising over the trees, “Laura and I would come up here, watching our human siblings. Cora and the others who did not have control yet ran through the trees down there.” Derek lifted a hand from Stiles' side to gesture to the trees along the bottom of the hill. “Adults would run with them, expelling excess energy and making sure the little ones didn't hurt someone. Sometimes Laura or I would join them, sometimes together while someone else watched the human kids. Sometimes, even the humans would run with us, mostly on important nights; graduations, wedding receptions, things like that.”

 

Derek’s voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke, slowly resting his hand on Stiles' side once again; but, Stiles hung on to every word. He was not sure why Derek had thought it was the night to share things, but Stiles never stopped him whenever he did feel like sharing. Stiles smiled softly, closing his eyes for a moment before sighing softly. He tensed a little when Derek’s hands moved to either one of his arms, which were resting on the man's legs, and he felt Derek’s thumbs running small circles on either wrist. The action pushed the hoodie sleeve up just slightly, but enough that a few of the longer scars could be seen on his left wrist. Stiles fidgeted uncomfortably, glancing up at Derek, but he relaxed slowly again when he realized the man's focus was on the woods in front of them instead of what he was doing. He tensed again when he heard someone or some _thing_ moving around just past where he could see in the treeline.

 

Derek remained relaxed, though, and Stiles tried to make himself do the same. If Derek was not worried, then he should not be. It took several moments for him to actually relax, however, and did not happen until he heard the very familiar sound of two people laughing; Scott and Isaac. It was the pack, they were running together. The thought made Stiles smile a little, turning his hands over to link his fingers with Derek’s with a gentle squeeze. It finally made sense what they were doing out there; Derek was starting up an old tradition, one he wanted all of them to be included in. “Don't you wanna join them?” Stiles asked after a while, the sounds of the others fading away in Stiles' ears, though Derek could still hear them clearly.

 

“No, I’m good here,” replied Derek as he gently squeezed Stiles' hands. “Feeling better today?”

 

Stiles let out a heavy breath and nodded a few times, tightening his grip on Derek’s hands as he sat up a little, enough that his head was no longer on Derek’s shoulder but not enough that his back was away from the man's chest. “Yeah, I don't... uhm, 'm not sure what happened, really.” Stiles spoke softly, shaking his head a little as he idly wet his lips before glancing over at Derek. “I just, I was cramming for my chemistry final and started _panicking_. I couldn't breathe, and... it was just bad. It's like; I dunno, I just feel like nothing's getting better. It's like I’m crawling, scrambling through the mud to something just out of my reach, but I just _can't_...” Stiles sighed and dropped his head back on Derek’s shoulder again, closing his eyes. He swore he imagined a brush of lips against his shoulder, but he could not bring himself to check. He would rather keep the illusion. “I still _want to_ so much. Sometimes s'like I can't breathe, like I’m drowning much too far from the surface o-or I’m on a ledge about to fall.”

 

“Just breathe, Stiles,” Derek said quietly, squeezing Stiles' hands once again before letting go to wrap both arms around Stiles' waist, hugging him close. “I've got you. We all do.” Stiles laughed softly, the sound shaky to both of their ears, but Stiles did not make any attempts to move away from Derek. He rested one of his hands on the man's arm, the other resting on a leg. “I'll catch you if you fall.”

 

Stiles laughed softly again, brow furrowing a little despite the small smile on his face as they both heard the sounds of the pack drawing closer again. “Just don't let go,” Stiles mumbled in response.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I relapsed the other night,” Stiles said the words slowly, hesitantly as if they hurt to say. If he was honest, they did. He kept his eyes trained on the ground. It had been about a week since the full moon and winter break had already started. Stiles could no longer say what had set him off; just that he knew his dad caught him in the act. He and John had spent several hours that night on the bathroom floor, clinging to one another while crying as Stiles apologized over and over.

 

Isaac reached over and took Stiles' hand in his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze while the rest of the group sat still and said nothing. It was the first time that Stiles had _really_ said anything in group. Dr. Koln nodded, silently urging Stiles to continue, feeling that maybe, finally his patient was starting to get it. “It was bad, and scary. I, uhm... I didn't sleep for a long time afterward. My dad, he kind of, well he just broke down, and I-I did that to him. I need to stop; I _want_ to stop. I-I can't do this alone, though,” Stiles said quietly, without lifting his eyes from the spot on the floor. Isaac gently squeezed Stiles' hand, a gesture that the brown-eyed teen returned with a heavy sigh.

 

“I don't think being alone is your issue, Stiles,” Dr. Koln said as he shifted in his seat, making the teen look up at him before glancing over toward Isaac once again. “I think the problem is you _letting_ them help you.” Lukas nodded with a small yet kind smile that showed in his eyes. “You've got your support system, they're there waiting for you. Let them help you. Call them when you need to talk, don't bottle things in. That's how you got here.”

 

Stiles let out a heavy, shaky breath as he nodded a little, absentmindedly wetting his lips. “What if I screw up?”

 

“We're still right with you,” replied Isaac softly, making Stiles look over at him with a small smile.

 

Lukas smiled softly once again, nodding as he rested his hands on his lap before saying, “You've come a long way these past few weeks, Stiles. I’m quite proud of you. Don't give up on yourself; things _will_ get better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose this spot for the ending for a reason. Recovery is not something that happens easily or quickly. This story only spans a few weeks of time. Stiles still has a long way to go before he will be okay, but he's got his friends and family there to support him. This is not going to be one of those stories where he finds out that Derek loves him and it suddenly gets easier. He knows he means something to Derek, to Scott, to Isaac... that does not make any of it easier or better. The next part of this story will show a different stage of recovery, which is different for everybody. 
> 
> My tumblr is http://subjecta2tbk.tumblr.com feel free to find me there, especially if you need someone to talk to. I am always here to listen and provide hugs and moral support.


End file.
